Table of Contents

Too Close to the Sun

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Dark Side of the Sun

Chapter 1

Other Books by Robin T. Popp

Too Close to the Sun

By Robin T. Popp

Copyright 2013 Robin T. Popp

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews.

Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

West Coast Beach

Las Vegas, Nevada

Earth, 2503 AD

“You’re not afraid.”

Nicoli Alexandres Romanof did not bother to respond. Though he could sense his friend’s unease, there was nothing he could do to lessen it.

There were others on the beach, enjoying the night-fishing, the stars, the moonlight, each other. A couple sat watching as the incoming surf chased their children up the shore. Their peals of laughter floated to Nicoli on a salty breeze and mingled with the soft crash of waves. For a moment he paused to watch them, envying their happiness. His own childhood left him with bitter memories.

The thought that he was about to leave these children the same legacy caused guilt to shoot through him. He wished he could warn them - warn everyone on the beach - to leave, find safety; but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. If the beach were empty, then they wouldn’t come, and it was imperative that they show up. Even knowing that others on the beach would die horribly tonight did not alter his resolve. What he was doing was more important than the loss of these innocent lives. As a soldier, he knew the good of many often comes at the sacrifice of a few. There was no solace to be found in those thoughts tonight and so he forced his attention back to his task.

“This will do,” he said softly, selecting a more remote stretch of beach.

The older man merely nodded before reaching into his inner jacket pocket to remove a slim silver disc, no larger than the palm of his hand. Next he took off the chain he wore around his neck, at the end of which hung a clear crystal tube, about four fingers width in length. He stared at them, doubt clearly etched in the lines of his frown and the worry in his eyes.

“It’ll work,” Nicoli reassured him, nodding to the disc.

“This is not your best idea, Alex.”

Nicoli smiled at the use of his middle name. Only Yanur Snellen persisted in calling him Alex because, in Yanur’s words, “Colonel Romanof was too military and Nicoli sounded too formal.” Nicoli tolerated it, not because Yanur was the most brilliant scientist he’d ever met, but because Yanur was his friend. In a universe full of people, he only had one of those.

“If the Harvesters show up tonight,” Yanur continued, “and this plan of yours works, it could be days, even weeks, before your life essence is returned to your body.” He paused before quietly adding, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to put it back.”

“I’m doing this.”

“This whole plan is crazy. What if I run into problems tracking your body? What if I never find it?”

“Let Richardson worry about tracking my body. That’s why I hired him.”

“Okay, let’s say we find your body, but can’t put you back? Are you prepared to live the rest of your life in this?” He held up the tube.

Nicoli sighed. “If you can’t put me back, then purchase my body, have it programmed for sex and give it to your Aunt Myrice as a present. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way she looks at me when we visit. Just don't tell me what she does because I don't think I could live with that image floating around in my brain."

"You won't have a brain," Yanur pointed out dryly.

Seeing the concern in his old friend's eyes, Nicoli grew serious. “You are the most brilliant man I know. I have complete faith that if you find my body, you'll be able to restore me to it.”

“What if I'm not as good as you think? You might actually succeed in killing yourself this time.”

“I’m not afraid to die,” Nicoli assured him.

“Yes, that’s what worries me.”

Nicoli looked out across the horizon, his patience wearing thin. He was much more realistic about this mission than he'd let on to Yanur and wasn't without his own reservations about its success. But, there was a time for talking and a time for action - and the time for talking was over.

“Yanur, the Harvesters must be stopped. Their systematic annihilation of our people cannot be allowed to continue.”

“I agree. But who made it your responsibility to save the universe?”

“I did.”

“Why? Why you in particular?”

“Because I have the military experience. Because I have no family to leave behind.” He turned to face Yanur and his tone left no room for further argument. “Because I figured out how to stop them. Now let’s get on with this. The night is getting old.”

Nicoli lay down on the beach, raising his arms to place his hands, fingers interlocked, beneath his head. He crossed his legs at the ankles and for all appearances seemed to be resting peacefully. Further down the beach, other “moon-sleepers” lay in similar poses, ignorant of their imminent danger.

Resignedly, Yanur knelt beside him and placed the silver disc on Nicoli’s forehead. He stood the tube on the disc, then ran his finger along the side to activate a hidden switch, but hesitated at the last moment.

“Are you sure there is no other way?” he asked, voice gruff with emotion.

The answer was in Nicoli’s grim expression. “Remember, once the transfer is complete, leave. It won’t be safe. Come back at the first light of dawn. If my body's been taken, go to the ship. Richardson will be waiting for you. If my body is still here, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

“But--”

“Don’t argue with me. Just do as I say.” Nicoli suffered a moment’s hesitation as children’s laughter floated to him once more. He cursed himself mentally for being weak, knowing that despite a lifetime of practice, he had failed to rid himself of all emotion. How many great plans failed because emotions got in the way? At thirty-eight, he was getting soft. “One more thing,” he said softly. “When you leave, take that family with you.”

Yanur nodded and then, with their gazes locked, he pressed the switch.

Nicoli’s eyes went blank

Yanur watched as a wispy, amber light seeped out of the body of his closest friend. It grew brighter as it cocooned Alex’s prone body. Then the top of the tube opened with a quiet hiss and the light was swiftly sucked into the tube.

When all the light was contained inside, the lid lowered, making a slight clicking noise when the tube was properly sealed. He placed two fingers against Alex’s neck and only removed them when he felt the strong, steady beating of a pulse.

The process had worked! Alex was still alive, or at least his body was. Even the worry of what lay before them was not enough to squelch a moment’s elation for an experiment gone right.

He picked up the brightly glowing tube and secured it to the chain before hanging it around his neck. He returned the silver disc to his pocket and lifted his gaze to the night sky for a quick check. All was quiet – for now.

He had half a mind to drag Alex’s body to safety and restore it tomorrow morning, telling the younger man that the Harvesters had failed to show up. Knowing Alex, though, he’d insist they try again tomorrow night, and each night thereafter until the Harvesters took his body. Eventually he’d realize Yanur was sabotaging his plans and decide to exclude Yanur from his future efforts. Yanur couldn’t afford to let that happen.

They were operating on a premise, with no contingency planning. The opportunities for failure were more than an average man could contemplate. Yanur knew this because, possessing a greater intellect than most, he’d pondered them all with the inevitable conclusion being – they were going to die.

He sighed and after struggling to his feet, crossed the beach to the young family.

“I will give you a thousand credits to leave the beach this instant with your children,” he told the parents. It was a hefty bribe and Alex would feel the pinch in his budget, if he survived the mission. If not, then what did it matter?

With the father watching him warily, Yanur pulled his communicator and a credit chip from his pocket. He tapped the necessary commands on the screen then swiped the credit, effectively transferring the money. Then he held the chip out to the man.

“Leave now. No questions asked.”

The young man nodded.

Yanur stood by and watched as they gathered their children and belongings and left. Once they were gone, he returned to his friend’s side and, ignoring the earlier order to leave, settled down to wait.

Less than an hour later, an isolated portion of the night sky began to shimmer and, like a hologram taking on definition and substance, an alien spaceship emerged. Caught dozing, Yanur scrambled to his feet, fearfully looking upward. Clutching the tube hanging from his necklace in a death grip, he gave Alex’s body a final look and a silent prayer, then turned and ran from the beach.

* * * * *

Skeeter’s was the last remaining icon of an era gone by. Situated at the remote end of the Las Vegas Coastal Airfield, the Old World pub offered sanctuary to world-weary travelers down on their luck. The ale might be watered down, but it was cheap. The meals weren’t gourmet, but they were hot and the portions filling. The rooms upstairs were small and lacked the amenities considered standard fare at even the low-end hotels, but they came free of pests (of all species) and could be rented by the hour, day or month with no ID and no questions.

The gaming that went on twenty-four / seven in the dank side rooms was just this side of legal. The activities that took place in the back rooms were so far outside the law that most patrons felt it was safer to pretend nothing was going on. All in all, Skeeter’s was a place best avoided by self-respecting, law-abiding citizens and the last place one would look to find a young woman of good breeding from an affluent family. Which was precisely why Angel Torrence called it home.

Sitting now in the cockpit of her Falcon XLT, she studied the pub’s lights shining from across the tarmac. It had been a safe place to hide these past two years. Given the circumstances, she’d almost been happy here, but two years was about a year and a half too long. It was time to move on.

She was in a better position to leave now, she thought, running a hand lovingly along the console of what was soon to be her ship. The money she'd earned from this last job gave her enough to make the final payment. Then, with the means to go anywhere, maybe, just maybe, she could finally be free.

Free. She’d been on the run since she was fifteen. Running from those who wished to control her, use her for their own purposes. Running from those who refused to let her go. In the early days, her survival had been more thanks to luck than anything else, but she'd been born with the ability to think on her feet and experience had made her tough. Now she worked as an independent galactic courier - uncertified, because that required registration and a background check, but her lack of certification didn’t matter to the clientele she attracted. Transporting illegal goods wasn’t always easy, but it was lucrative.

She'd just finished a run and Dugan would be waiting to hear how things went on Felinea. More important, he’d want his money.

Angel verified that the stasis field holding the ship firmly anchored to the ground was operational before leaving the pilot's seat. She headed down the short passageway to the small onboard cabin to retrieve her things, pausing when she caught sight of her reflection in the small wall mirror.

After eight years, the dark-haired woman staring back at her should have looked familiar. Angel absently ran her fingers through her too-short hair, remembering how long - and blonde - it had been eight years ago. It had nearly reached her waist - and acted like a shining beacon of light bringing her too easily to the attention of those looking for her.

That first week on her own, she'd cut it herself and, using a cup of concentrated coffee swiped from an outdoor cafe, she'd dyed the uneven strands dark brown. The residue from the beverage had left her hair stiff and sticking out from her head. What she hadn't realized at the time was that her new style, combined with her light violet eyes and dark clothes gave her a tough, edgy appearance that went a long way toward making sure no one bothered her.

Shaking herself of the memories, she opened the closet door and, grabbing a cap, pulled it low to partially hide her face. She checked the charge on her gun before securing it the shoulder holster, knowing it would be well concealed beneath the heavy leather of the flight jacket.

When she reached for the satchel containing Dugan’s money and hefted it over her shoulder, pain lanced through her side. Sneaking a look beneath the jacket, she saw that her wound had opened and blood had seeped through the homemade bandage onto her shirt. The stain was small, so she figured the bleeding would stop soon and she wouldn’t need stitches after all.

With the satchel in hand, she exited the ship.

The sun was just beginning its ascent across the eastern sky, painting the airfield in a vibrant display of pink, orange and yellow. Despite the early hour, there was a steady drone of activity on the airfield. At least a hundred ships hovered a meter or two over designated landing pads, stasis fields holding them in place while maintenance crews ran through pre- or post- flight checks. The field itself was in decent shape considering it was routinely subjected to terrorist attacks. The last attack had been only a couple of weeks ago and Angel hoped she'd be long gone before the next one came.

At the head of the tarmac stood the Control Tower, from which all launches and landings were coordinated. Even this far away, she smelled the familiar pungent odor of Tyrillium fumes and inhaled deeply, watching as pilots and other personnel rushed back and forth, taking care of business. She would miss all this.

She gave her ship a cursory once over. Everything appeared in order. As much out of habit as curiosity, she took note of her neighbors. Most of the ships she knew by sight. On the left hovered TJ’s derelict cruiser, the kind typically used for common trade. On the right, however, was a sleek little number she’d not seen before. A real beaut. A smaller craft designed for high speeds and long distances. She wondered if it handled as good as it looked and ignored a twinge of longing to find out. Drawn by peculiar openings on either side of the nose, she stepped closer. Smartly embedded in the outer paneling were PCPs: pulse cannon portals. Definitely not a standard aircraft. It might have been government issue, but why keep it here? The United System of Planets’ Security Forces had its own airfield not far from here.

Bold blue letters across the side spelled out the ship’s name, Icarus. The name sounded familiar. She searched her memory of ancient Earth folklore and remembered a character from Greek mythology who had fashioned wings out of wax and feathers to fly. Unfortunately, he had foolishly flown too close to the sun, causing the wax to melt and him to plummet to his death.

Was this really an appropriate name for a starship? The ship’s owner certainly had an odd sense of humor, which negated the government theory - for obvious reasons. As everyone knew, the government was not capable of humor.

Turning from the ship, Angel scanned the tarmac once again before starting across. The sense of foreboding that had started last evening before she left for Felinea was getting worse. If what happened there was any indication of what was to come, the sooner she left, the better.

Inside Skeeter’s, things were quiet. Only the die-hard patrons were still up and about at this hour. A few heads turned briefly at her entrance. Across the room, Martin stood behind the bar, cloth in hand, wiping down the counter. Ol’ Joe was passed out in his usual spot, head down, a thin stream of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth to pool on the countertop below. Over by the stairs, Pixie was finishing “business” negotiations with a potential client. Angel had to admire the older woman’s stamina. This was probably her tenth customer tonight. Other patrons sat around gaming tables, wagering and drinking ale. It was the same scene as a hundred times before, right down to the outsider sitting in the corner.

He looked out of place drinking coffee, but he was minding his own business. Angel could respect that.

She gave a mental shrug and continued into the room. She had her own problems to worry about. The door to Dugan’s office was closed and she knew better than to knock. Martin had no doubt pressed the button under the counter alerting Dugan to her arrival, so she headed over to the bar to wait.

“How ya doin,’ Angel?” Martin’s smile was warm and friendly while her own no doubt came across looking more like a grimace. Tucking the toe of her boot under the bottom rung of a stool to pull it out, she hiked one hip onto the seat, leaving her other foot on the floor for balance. With effort, she lifted the satchel off her shoulder and onto the countertop.

“Jeez girl, what happened to you?”

Angel looked up and saw Martin staring at where her jacket gaped open revealing a shirt stained with more blood than the last time she'd checked. She quickly pulled it closed. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. You run into trouble on Felinea?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. You should see the other guy.” She smiled at the lame joke while Martin continued to frown.

“Yeah?” He sounded skeptical. “Maybe I should take a look at it. Clean it up. Do a little sewing?”

“No thanks.”

Martin didn’t press her further, but instead reached under the bar to pull out a double-shot glass, which he filled with an iridescent sky-blue liquid.

He pushed the glass toward her. She downed the icy cool liquid in a single swallow. Martian Ale went down cold, but arrived hot. As the warmth spread throughout her body, the pain in her side eased.

Angel pushed the empty shot glass across the counter, indicating with her hand that Martin should fill it again.

He gave her a questioning look. “You never drink more than one. That side of yours must be hurting.”

“I’m celebrating,” she said, watching him fill the glass again.

“Really? Care to share the good news?”

“As of tonight, I am the proud owner of one Falcon XLT space craft.”

Tonight, for the first time in my life, I’m free.

“And at such a young age, too.” Martin smiled. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order.” He pushed the refilled shot glass toward her, then poured a smaller one for himself. They raised their glasses in a silent toast and downed the contents. This time the icy burn wasn’t as startling to her system.

“Tell me about the stiff in the corner?”

“Don’t know," Martin said. "He doesn’t talk much, just sits and drinks coffee. Every now and then, he’ll look at his watch and go outside. I followed him once, just to see where he went.”

“And?” Angel prompted when he paused.

“And nothing. He walks over to that sleek little number on the field, you know the one I mean, and just stands there for a minute like he’s waiting for someone. Then he comes back here and orders more coffee.”

Angel lazily pondered what the man was up to. Thanks to the Martian Ale, she felt almost as good as new. Her hands absently played with the empty shot glass as her attention wandered down the bar.

“I miss something?” She nodded toward the images flitting across the vid-screen.

“Harvester attack, not far from here. West Beach.”

“You're kidding? How'd I miss that?” Angel absorbed the news in shock. She’d just flown over that area not an hour ago.

“Yeah.” Martin nodded. “It’s getting so decent folk aren’t safe going out at night.”

Angel shot him a look, eyebrows raised. How long had it been since either of them had been considered “decent folk”?

“Point is, no one is safe anymore.” He focused his look at her injured side.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Torrence!” A male voiced bellowed. “Get your ass in here.”

“Then again...” She pushed the empty glass toward Martin and slid from the stool. “Been nice knowing you.” Hardly wincing this time when she hefted the satchel onto her shoulder, she headed for the back room.

Alistar “Skeeter” Dugan, Underground Boss of the West Side, was in his mid-fifties and sported an athletic build just starting to go soft. His commanding presence gave him the stature his average height could not. He was overbearing, unforgiving, and his sense of humor had died along with his wife and daughter ten years ago. He was not a man to be messed with and Angel had no doubt that if she irritated him enough, he would forget how much she reminded him of his daughter.

“I know what you're going to say and I'm telling you, it wasn’t my fault.” She slid the satchel off her shoulder and let it fall to the desktop. “By the way, here’s your money.”

“Not your fault?” Dugan shouted, slamming the door behind her. “You shot the son of Felinea’s leading crime boss!”

“Give me a break, it’s not like I killed him. It was just a scratch.”

“You shot off his –.”

“I know what I shot off,” Angel interrupted. “Look, the guy was all over me. I told him I wasn’t interested, but the more I said ‘no,’ the more he heard ‘yes.’ I didn’t have any other choice. Besides, what’s the big fuss? He’s Felinean. It’ll grow back.”

Dugan stormed up to her, causing her to step back. She wanted some distance between them, just in case. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, wrenching her around. Pain shot through her side with the sudden movement and she couldn’t hide her reaction fast enough. Distracted from what he was about to say, Dugan pulled back her jacket flap.

“Explain this,” he said when he spotted the blood.

“Like I said, Tony didn’t like hearing ‘no.’ Things got a little rough before I got my point across.”

Dugan studied her for a moment. Then, some of the anger drained from his face to be replaced by another emotion. Resignation, maybe. “If you were anyone else, I’d have your head on a platter, literally, and see that it got delivered to Felinea with my deepest apologies.”

Angel swallowed hard because she knew Dugan meant what he said. “I’m sorry, but the guy had it coming and it’s not like I did any permanent damage.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No way. I purposely used a narrow beam so I could isolate the damage to that single area. Now granted, there was some confusion and it was a small target, but -.”

“Oh, you hit what you aimed for. But you don’t get credit for originality. You do, however, get credit for being number nine and as they say, ninth time’s the charm with Felineans. No more regenerations for that particular organ and folks over there are upset. Tony in particular.”

The news hit her like a slap in the face, but she tried to cover it with flippancy. “He’s a slow learner. They should thank me for taking him out of the gene pool.”

“Yeah? Well, his father, who runs the entire east-side, isn’t laughing. He wanted grandkids. Now he wants revenge.”

Going to stand behind his desk, he pulled the satchel closer and opened it. From inside, he pulled out the bundles of currency and counted them. After counting them a second time, he looked at her. “It’s not all here.”

“No, it’s not. I took out what you owed me, less the final payment for the ship, as per our agreement.” She refused to look away, waiting for his reaction. Then, to her relief, he nodded. Picking up one of the bundles, he stared at it for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do, then tossed it out to her.

"What's this for?" she asked.

“You’ll need it where you’re going.”

“Which is where?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care, but don’t take your time getting there.”

She was tempted to keep the money but pride made her toss the bundle back to him. “I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”

Dugan walked around the desk and shoved the stack of bills into her jacket pocket, being careful not to touch her injured side. “Don’t be so damn stubborn. The Felineans will be here soon. For political reasons, I won’t stop them, but I sure hate the thought of you dying, so I think it’d be better if you weren’t here when they arrived. I’ll ship the stuff from your room to you later.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Angel learned long ago not to accumulate more than she could carry. So her “stuff” included the clothes on her ship, the locket hanging around her neck (a gift from her mother) and the Nguyen V-500 resting in her holster (a gift from Dugan). Everything else could be replaced.

“How bad is your side? Do you need Martin to look at it?”

“No, I’ll be all right.”

“Then you’d better go.”

And just like that, the moment of her departure from Skeeter's and the life she'd been living for two years had arrived. It didn't matter that less than an hour ago she'd decided to leave, it still hurt to be told to go. Sometime over the past two years, despite her best efforts to remain distant, she’d developed a fondness for Dugan, Martin and the others who worked and lived at Skeeter's. They’d become her family.

It shouldn’t be this hard to leave family. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't left family before. As she looked at Dugan, a feeling of such loneliness stole over her, the weight of it was nearly suffocating. Emotion rose unbidden to choke any words she might have muttered into silence.

As she struggled to compose herself, a commotion in the outer room distracted her.

Curious, Angel joined Dugan behind the desk. The feed from the various security cameras showed six men, weapons in hand, standing in the front room, looking serious and extremely dangerous. Everyone else in the room had moved to crowd the outer walls, no doubt hoping to stay clear of the line of fire.

“Terrorists?” Angel asked hopefully.

“Felinean Avengers,” Dugan corrected.

“Damn.” This just wasn’t her day. She could see Martin with one hand under the counter, no doubt with his mini-Mag trained on the group. He’d only be able to take out two, three at best. The rest of the patrons wouldn’t interfere and, as Dugan had warned her, neither would he. That left three of them to one of her. She didn’t like the odds.

“Take my private exit,” Dugan said, pressing a button under the desk. To her surprise, the wall beside her seemed to evaporate and an opening appeared. “This comes out two doors down.”

Angel stepped into the opening, but couldn’t bring herself to just walk off. She had brought trouble to Skeeter’s and her friends. She couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves.

“Dugan…”

He nodded as if he understood, then reached into his own jacket and pulled out an impressive Smith and Wesson Destroyer. He gave her a slow grin. “Better hurry.”

She knew then that despite what he’d said, Dugan wouldn’t make the Avengers’ job any easier. No one came into Skeeter’s to start trouble without getting a little in return.

She went swiftly through the tunnel and once outside, skirted the side of the building so she could get a look across the open stretch of tarmac separating her from her ship.

There were no Avengers outside waiting for her, but it was a long way to her ship. The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle as she made her decision to run for it.

She hadn’t taken three steps when the explosion came.

The shock wave caused her to stumble and nearly fall. Gravel rained down on her, peppering her head and back. A few short meters away, the tarmac had been turned into one big scorch mark. If someone had been aiming for her, they'd missed. That seemed unlikely for Avengers, so then - who was responsible?

Into the quiet came another explosion, this time on the opposite end of the field. The explosion was followed by the high-pitched wail of alarms.

Terrorists.

From around the field’s perimeter, patrons flooded out of pubs and restaurants. Some scattered aimlessly to get away from unseen attackers. Others raced across the tarmac, desperate to get to their ships. Spotting the Avengers leaving Skeeter’s, she let the moving crowd carry her in the direction of her ship.

She was nearly to it when the next explosion knocked her to the ground. Momentarily stunned, she struggled to get up but couldn't move. Fear spiked through her at the thought that she might have been hit.

No.

She fought to stay calm and think. Her side was burning and she knew the wound there had reopened. A quick mental check said her whole body ached, but nothing hurt bad enough to explain why she couldn't get up. Twisting around as best she could, she recognized the stranger from Skeeter’s lying on top of her, pinning her down.

“Get up.” She shoved at him, but he wouldn’t move. People moved past her without sparing her a glance. They were too concerned with saving themselves to offer assistance. Then she noticed the blood. A lot of blood.

She didn't think it was hers, though. She looked up at the stranger and this time registered his blank, lifeless eyes. The blood had to be his. It was the only answer she'd allow herself to believe.

Overhead, a distinct whistling sound distracted her and she looked up. Coming in hot was a blazing ball of light. A long distance photon trebuchet.

Covering her head with her arms as it shot over her, she prayed she'd misjudged its trajectory.

Please God, let it be TJ’s junker.

Chapter 2

When the explosion came, she was too close. Intense, blistering heat rode the shockwave and blasted her full force. Ironically, the dead man’s body protected her from plummeting pieces of debris and certain death. When she finally lifted her head, she saw what was left of her ship - her only hope of escape - going up in flames. It was more than she could bear.

Her vision blurred and she angrily swiped away the unwanted tears from her eyes. Vowing to not let “them” win, she worked her arms beneath the body and shoved it off to the side enough that she could pull herself free. With bone weary fatigue, she stood and looked around for another means of escape.

Involuntarily, her gaze returned to the lifeless stranger at her feet. With his death, there now stood a ship without a pilot. Why shouldn't she have it?

A part of her felt guilty for the thought, like she was being insensitive. She shoved the feeling aside as she bent and felt the soft underside of the man's wrist, searching for the distinctive hard outline of an embedded chip. There was no way the Icarus used the old scan-card technology.

The cacophony of sounds - people yelling or crying, the rumble of ships taking off, the sound of running footsteps - reminded her that time was running out. If she didn't find the chip soon --

The small raised edge was nearly undetectable - unless one was specifically looking for it. Marking the spot with her finger, she pulled a small laser knife from an inner jacket pocket. Activating the narrow beam, she cut along the outer edge of the chip, opening the skin just enough to extract the chip.

It came out surprisingly easy, making Angel think the man hadn't had it long. The chip itself didn't look like much. A flat square piece of metal that was so small and light, she had to make a conscious effort to pinch it between her fingers in order not to lose it.

She searched the tarmac for the Icarus. It was still standing where she'd first noticed it, apparently untouched by the violence around it.

Angel took off running.

It wasn't until she'd reached the aircraft that she noticed the older man hiding beneath the ship's wing, his eyes staring wildly at the chaos all around while his hand kept a death grip on something hanging from the chain around his neck. He was obviously in the wrong place, at the wrong time. And he wasn’t her problem.

She waved the security chip across the hatch door sensor.

"Come on. Work, damn it."

Nothing happened. Her fingers were blocking the signal. Carefully, for fear she would drop the chip and never find it again, she adjusted her hold until the chip was gripped upright between her thumb and forefinger. This time when she waved it before the sensor, she was rewarded with the satisfying grate of the hatch opening.

She was moments from freedom.

About to disappear into the ship, she noticed the old man hadn't moved. If she left him here, he’d be killed, either by the terrorists or by the thruster-fire of the ship as she took off. With a silent curse, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him forward.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“But...” Several distant explosions muddled the man’s objection.

“It’s okay,” she tried to reassure him when he remained hesitant. Angel didn't want to leave him behind, but they were out of time.

"Either get on board or move clear. Personally, I think you’d be safer with me than out here. Your choice, of course, but make it quick. In thirty seconds, this ship is taking off."

Releasing him, she bolted for the bridge. Climbing into the pilot’s chair, she strapped herself in.

"Are you the pilot?” The man's shaky voice came from behind her.

“Yeah." Her voice sounded scratchy and rough. A result of breathing in all that smoke, she guessed – and she sounded more confident than she felt. She'd never flown a craft like this before and the control panel was like nothing she'd ever seen, but Angel had done a lot of flying in her twenty-six years and every ship she'd flown shared the same basic flight functionality. It was just a matter of figuring out the right buttons.

The buttons were badly worn, distorting any label or marking that might have told her what each one did. Sending up a silent prayer, she hit a button that she thought would start the thrusters. Immediately, the ship began to rock violently accompanied by the horrific sound of metal grating.

Wrong button.

She quickly pressed it again and both the vibrations and noise stopped. There wasn't time for any more mistakes. She had to figure out these controls now.

Studying the panel carefully, she noticed a familiar button off to the side. She pressed it and the panel lit up. Now Angel could see that the scratches on each button were actually markings that identified each one’s function. Most of them were familiar to her and the rest - well, she'd figure those out later.

Pressing the engine button, she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the rumble of the ship's engines coming to life. Quickly, she went through the pre-flight check. Everything seemed to be in working order.

The open hatch light caught her attention and she glanced over her shoulder and down the short hall to see the old man standing in the open hatchway.

"You in or out?” She shouted to be heard over the roar of the ship’s engines. “My personal advice? Choose in!”

Just then, there was another explosion. It rocked their ship and seemed to galvanize the man. He rushed to the bridge, dropping into the empty chair behind hers.

“I’m in!” he shouted, pulling on the safety straps. “Go!”

“Roger that,” Angel agreed, making note of the man's off-world accent.

Damned tourist. He picked a hell of a time for a visit.

Pressing two buttons, she closed the hatch door and opened a channel to Flight Control, though she suspected this last protocol was a waste of time under the circumstances.

“Tower, this is Icarus. Request permission to take off.”

A voice crackled over the open comm-link. “Icarus, permission denied.”

Yeah, that's what she thought they'd say. Not that anyone was heeding their instructions. Through the front view panel, Angel watched those ships still intact lifting off, desperate to escape the dangers of remaining grounded.

On the far side of the tarmac, five terrorists appeared, dressed in their symbolic silver and blue uniforms, arms filled with bucking pulse cannons, muzzles blazing. Wherever they aimed, destruction followed. On the other side, less than twenty meters from the Icarus, two Avengers stood, their gazes scanning the area. Angel knew they were searching for her.

Just then, they turned her way. Their gazes locked briefly with Angel's and she saw her own demise if she didn’t act quickly.

Switching on her perimeter view screens, she activated the upward thrusters. “Hold on!” she yelled to her passenger. “This bird’s gonna fly!”

"We can't," the old man shouted. "It's too crowded."

“They’ll make room for one more.” Her voice carried more confidence than she felt.

“What if they don’t?”

“Then I guess it’ll be a short trip.” She shut off the stasis field and the ship, released from its anchor, rocketed upward.

Using the upward momentum to gain a height advantage over the other ships was less about strategy and more about being unfamiliar with the ship's controls. As she flew too close to the other ships, the proximity alarms started blaring.

Angel found the button to turn them off. She didn't need that blaring noise to tell her she was flying too close to the other ships.

When an Orion Stellar cruiser materialized suddenly in front of them, Angel slammed the guidance stick to port. The ship, responding immediately to her touch, banked sharply, nearly spilling its passengers from their chairs.

"Tighten your security straps," Angel shouted as she did the same.

Seconds later, she sent the Icarus into a dive to avoid an out-of-control stealth cruiser only to discover that she'd placed the Icarus directly in the path of an oncoming Talbar’t freighter.

Despite the fact that they were hurtling through space, thanks to the adrenaline coursing through her, time seemed to slow down.

With a quick glance to confirm they were surrounded by ships, Angel calculated the odds that the freighter's pilot would try to avoid a collision by altering his course. She was playing the odds and if she was wrong...

She didn't waste time thinking about it and increased her speed. At the last possible second, as the freighter made a slight turn to its starboard side, Angel tapped the thruster controls while angling the directional stick. The Icarus made a ninety degree flip onto its starboard side and slipped past the freighter with only a narrow margin for error on either side.

Angel's adrenaline never stopped pumping as she dodged ship after ship. This was the kind of flying she hated, and loved. One wrong move could be her last.

When they finally broke free and entered the peacefulness of open space, Angel increased their speed to put distance between them and the chaos left behind.

Now that they were safe, Angel noticed her muscles starting to ache and she forced them to relax.

“Sorry about the rough take.” She swallowed to clear her throat. "Couldn’t be avoided. Are you okay?”

“I think...yes.”

Angel heard the sound of safety straps releasing and then the old man was sliding into the co-pilot's seat.

His clothes were those worn by most travelers, made of a durable fabric with a loose cut. There was nothing special about them to give her a hint about his profession or trade. Upon closer look, his face, which was beginning to regain a little of its lost color, was that of a man in his late fifties or early sixties, making him much younger than she'd first expected. She decided it was his long gray hair that made him seem older.

He gave her a slight smile. “Impressive flying. You saved my life. Thank you.” Shaking his head, he gave a brief chuckle. “You’re certainly not what I expected.”

Angel had no idea what he meant and was sure she looked perplexed.

“Your age,” he said as if that explained it. When she continued to look confused, he elaborated. “I was expecting an older man, not a boy your age. When I was told the arrangement, I assumed it would be a more seasoned pilot working with us. But obviously, with your flying skills, it makes sense.”

He thought she was a boy? Seriously? Angel was offended and about to correct his misconception when the rest of his words registered. “This is your ship?” Damn.

"Well, not mine. It Alex's ship." He frowned. "Aren't you Richardson?"

"No, I'm Michels.” She never gave strangers her real name.

“Oh.” There was a moment as he seemed to absorb the news; then he held out his hand to shake hers. “My name is Yanur Snellen. You can’t be very old. How long have you been with the S.F?”

The thought of working for the government’s Security Forces brought a smile to her lips. “I’m not exactly with the S.F.”

“You weren’t sent here to meet me? In Richardson’s place?”

“No. I don't know any Rich...” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the stranger in the bar. "I'm sorry. Your pilot's ... dead. He died back there in the attack."

“Oh." There was a moment of silence as he absorbed the news. "But you had the key to the ship.”

“True.”

“I see.” He gave her a parental look of disapproval. “Stealing is against the law.”

“Yeah, sorry. So where can I drop you?”

Without answering her, he removed the glowing amber tube from his necklace and leaned over the ship’s console, sliding the tube into a concealed opening. Before she could stop him, he flipped a switch on the console.

“What is that? What did you just do?” Angel reached out to remove the tube only to have her hand firmly shoved away.

“Yanur, report.” A deep male voice boomed from the com-system. “Are we on schedule?”

“Who is that?” Angel asked, confused.

“Not exactly,” Yanur answered, ignoring her. “We ran into a problem at the airfield.” Quickly, he recounted the turn of events out loud. Angel was still trying to figure out what was going on when an alarm started ringing.

“What now?” She searched the ship’s console for a clue to the problem, wishing she was in her own ship.

“IGT-Beacon,” the voice said. “Adjust our course and speed accordingly.”

“Excuse me?” She never took orders well, especially when she didn’t know who was giving them.

“We have less than a minute to get within range of the target. Use the beacon!”

“What beacon?” Angel asked, exasperated. “What is going on?”

“Look at the navigrid.” The voice sounded as if it was speaking through gritted teeth. “You should see our target at the edge of the screen.”

She looked at the screen. “The red, blinking light?”

“That’s it. Let’s go,” the voice ordered.

“I’m not doing anything until someone tells me what’s going --” Suddenly, the ship altered course and increased speed.

“What the...?” She examined the console readouts for an explanation of the malfunction.

“We need to make the jump to hyper drive,” the voice announced. “It’s imperative we reach the target as quickly as we can. Do it now.”

Angel was beyond frustrated. “What in the hell is going on?” She glared at her passenger. “Who is that giving orders?”

“It’s Alex.”

Angel shot him a look. “That doesn’t tell me anything. Where is he?”

Yanur gestured to the ship's console.

“You're telling me Alex is the computer?”

Yanur's nod left Angel momentarily speechless. She'd heard of the advances in artificial intelligence, but never imagined they'd achieved anything as sophisticated as a self-aware starship - especially one so bossy.

And she'd stolen it. Of all the luck.

The pitch of the ship's engines changed, jerking her from her thoughts.

Oh no. “Hold on!” Angel shouted just as the ship made the jump to hyper drive. The resulting g-force crushed her into her seat. The accompanying wave of nausea passed quickly as the life support system kicked in and stabilized the internal pressure.

After a moment, the alarm ceased its incessant pealing and the bridge grew unusually quiet. Angel stared out the front viewport, watching reflected light from the stars race by and swore under her breath.

“Are you okay?” She turned to look at her companion whose complexion had taken on a greenish hue. When he nodded, she turned her attention back to the ship. “How do you run a diagnostic on this thing," she muttered, mostly to herself, hoping something as simple as a malfunction explained their unscheduled jump.

“There was no malfunction,” the computer replied. “I made that jump.”

“What?” Her voice came out barely a whisper.

“You took too long.”

“Too long? Without the correct coordinates, a jump to hyper drive can be fatal.”

“I had already calculated the correct coordinates. There was no danger.”

“Excuse me,” she bit out, “but I am the pilot.”

“I think not. Since you are obviously incapable of following directions, I have assumed control of this ship.”

“Over my dead body,” Angel muttered. The thought of a free-thinking computer taking over scared her. She wanted to end this - now. She typed in a command to override the computer control, but the ship failed to respond to her.

She glared from her passenger to the tube still plugged into the console. “Disconnect it.”

He shook his head at her request. “No.”

She grabbed the tube and pulled, all the while enduring her passenger’s quiet stare, as if he were a parent waiting for his child’s temper tantrum to subside.

“Is there a problem?” the computer asked patiently.

“Yes there’s a problem, you self-absorbed, mutant computer chip. Disconnect from my ship immediately.”

The damn computer had the nerve to laugh at her! It was a full-bodied male laugh that sent shivers of awareness tingling down her spine, despite her anger. “First of all, this is my ship. And from now on, I give the orders and you’ll do as I say. If that’s a problem, get over it. Or get out. Your choice. Shall I open the hatch?”

As if she could leave, she thought furiously. With a last yank on the tube, she gave up. It wouldn’t budge.

“It seems you win,” she addressed the computer. “For now.”

“Clearly. Now be a good boy and sit back and relax. I don’t know how far we have to go or what type of space we’ll travel through to get there.”

Boy? Even the computer thought she was a boy! Surely Yanur would have mentioned she was a woman if he had finally noticed. She'd lost her hat at the airfield, but could imagine how her short hair might be plastered to her head and with her hoarse voice, she supposed she did look and sound like a boy. Well, maybe that wasn’t so bad.

“Computer, how long do you intend to hold me hostage?”

“Until I complete my mission.”

“What mission?” When her question met with silence, Angel narrowed her eyes to glare at the old man, who, in turn, watched her closely, his expression unreadable. “Exactly where are we going?”

“Harvesters’ home planet.” The words were spoken so matter-of-factly.

“That’s impossible. No one knows where it is. Myths and legends, but nothing factual.”

“That’s not entirely true,” the computer pointed out.

“Well yeah, but even if you could find a Deep Space Trader, you’d never get one to tell you that particular location.”

“True. But we don’t need them to tell us.”

“Why?” Angel couldn't believe she was arguing with a computer.

“Because the Harvesters will take us there themselves.”

It took Angel only a moment to make the connection. “That signal we’ve been following? That’s a Harvesters’ ship?” She rubbed her forehead, hoping to ease the pressure building behind her temples. “Just how did you manage to get close enough to tracer-tag one of their ships?”

“Actually, the tag is implanted in one of the victim’s bodies.”

“Come again?”

“We had a volunteer implant a tracer-tag into his body and then let himself be taken during the Harvesters’ last raid.”

It was suicide, pure and simple. “Who in God’s name was crazy enough to do that?”

“I was.” The computer responded.

“What do you mean, you were. You’re a computer.”

“No. I assure you, I am quite human.”

“Impossible.”

“On the contrary. My name is Nicoli Alexandres Romanof. I’m a colonel with the United System of Planets’ Security Forces.”

“I’ve never heard of you.” She had no idea who might and might not work for the S.F., but that wasn't the point.

“You wouldn’t have. I specialize in covert assignments.”

“And you're currently undercover? As a computer? Give me a little credit, please,” she snorted, thoroughly disgusted.

"It's not important that you understand how it's possible that I'm able to interface with the ship's computer," the voice said. "The only thing you need to understand is that I'm on a mission and I won't tolerate any interference from a common thief. So if you can't cooperate, I'll find a way to get rid of you."

Chapter 3

“You can kiss my ass.” Unlatching her safety harness, Angel stood up. “You,” she stabbed the air in front of the old man, “and your computer-friend are certifiably crazy. Whacko. Do you hear me?”

Ignoring his bemused expression, she stormed off the bridge, past the hatch and down the short hallway until she found the sleeping quarters. Since she didn't have control of the ship - and couldn’t leave it - she might as well have a look around.

The first door she came to was unlocked, so she went in. While the cabin definitely was not on par with a Vista 250 luxury suite, it wasn’t bad. Soft beige, tan and coral tones gave the room a calm, spacious feel. Immediately to the right of the doorway was a small table with two chairs. Above these, set into the wall, were the intercom and recycler. A small bed stood against the right wall and opposite that was the door to the decontamination unit, or the D-U as it was better known.

Curious as to what amenities she might find inside, she palmed open the door. The D-U was a small room with a bio-waste unit and lavatory on one side and the shower stall on the other. It used the standard lightweight cleaning solution known as Supercleanze to deliver a fine, cleansing mist that dried quickly.

Angel stepped out of the D-U to check out the room's only closet. She rummaged through the hanging shirts and pants, catching the faint musky odor of their owner still clinging to them. It was a distinctively masculine scent that sent her imagination down interesting and not often traveled paths. Unable to resist, she took another deep breath and sighed before reluctantly shutting the door.

She would take this room. At least until they reached a space station or someplace where she could disembark. Having made the decision, she left the room to explore the rest of the ship, making sure to check out every nook and cranny as she went. When her stomach growled, she remembered that she hadn’t eaten and went to find the galley.

It was as small as the rest of the rooms, but definitely state-of-the-art with its Cosmos Food Genie and pre-set menu selection pad. She entered her selection of a Holwraith meat and Zantl cheese sandwich on whole grain bread, and a glass of Aldenberry juice. Less than two minutes later, she was back in her new quarters, eating her food and letting her thoughts wander.

So much had happened – the encounter with Tony, the terrorist attack, losing her ship, stealing this one. And then, the coup-de-grâce – held prisoner by a computer that claimed to be human? It was enough to make her wish she'd learned how to hack into computer programs.

But she hadn’t, so now what? How did one out-think a computer?

Maybe she didn't have to. That voice coming from the ship had claimed to be a man. A colonel with the S.F. What had it – or he – said his name was? Romanof? She’d seen a lot of weird stuff in her life, was this really so hard to believe? The computer certainly didn’t sound like any computer she’d worked with, not with that velvet-edged, sexy voice.

“Michels, report to the bridge.”

She forgot to include overbearing and authoritative in her description.

“I’m busy.” Irritated at the intrusion, she finished her sandwich and swallowed the last of her drink. She didn’t take orders well and the sooner the computer – or Romanof - understood that, the better.

“Michels, an uncooperative pilot is as useful to me as a dead pilot. Report to the bridge.”

She didn't think he could "see" her, but gave him the one-fingered salute as she crossed the room to dispose of her plate and cup in the recycler. Then, in an admittedly childish act of defiance, she turned off the intercom so he couldn’t bother her again and crossed over to the closet.

She rummaged on the floor until she found an old boot. Wishing the Felineans had upgraded to a wireless form of currency, she took the wad of cash Dugan had given her from her jacket pocket and stuffed it inside. There was no point in carrying it around with her. To be safe, though, she hid the boot in the very back of the closet before closing the door.

Then the events of the last forty-eight hours caught up with her, along with the lack of sleep, and she yawned. The bed beckoned and she had no will to resist. Laying down on it, only to rest a bit, she fell fast asleep.

* * * * *

Nicoli considered his current situation. His plan was little more than a calculated gamble. He’d had no doubts the Harvesters would take his body from the beach. Tall, well-muscled from years of rigorous training and, if what others said was true, attractive. Nicoli fit the physical profile for desired sex slaves. It wasn’t vanity; it was fact. A fact that made the chances of recovering his body at one of the Harvesters’ nefarious black market auctions better than good. That was the crux of his plan.

Losing Richardson had been a blow. Nicoli had personally selected Richardson for his piloting skills and vast field experience. He needed someone seasoned in battle by his side as he infiltrated and destroyed the Harvesters. While Yanur would do anything for him, Nicoli refused to let the older man endanger himself. Now, instead of a warrior, Nicoli was stuck with a boy. Not an ordinary boy, that was apparent. This young upstart had kept his head during a terrorist attack, shown resourcefulness in stealing Nicoli’s own ship, demonstrated charity by taking Yanur aboard rather than leaving him behind, and then piloted an unfamiliar ship through a nearly impossible course into open space with skills Yanur claimed were exemplary.

All the guts and raw talent in the universe were useless, though, if the boy couldn’t accept and follow orders. Whether Nicoli could change that or not remained to be seen.

He checked the ship’s progress. They had entered The Forty-Five, a wormhole discovered decades ago. Wormholes provided shortcuts across the fabric of space and this one led to a lesser-known quadrant.

From inside the wormhole, there was no way to judge their proximity to the target. They were gaining on it, but not fast enough to suit Nicoli. He hadn’t lied to Yanur when he’d said he didn’t fear death. The thought of living forever inside a computer, however, scared him considerably. No thank you.

He increased the ship’s speed.

* * * * *

It was her fifteenth birthday and life had never been so good. She and her parents gathered around a picnic and while they ate, her father told more of the wonderful stories that made her laugh, and made him smile.

Suddenly, his body jerked and the smile turned into a grimace as a red stain spread across his chest. He began to fall away from her. Reaching for him, Angel managed to grab a handful of his shirt, but she wasn't strong enough to hold onto him. Before she could do anything more, he'd slipped away from her into the dark.

A shadow appeared then, looming over her, and she looked up to see her grandfather standing there, scowling down at her. Beside him was Angel's mother, wearing a black mourning robe. She offered Angel her hand and Angel stood to take it. The picnic and yard where they stood blurred and faded. When her surroundings came back into focus, Angel was standing beside her mother and grandfather in the family cemetery, before a freshly covered grave with a headstone bearing her father’s name.

Sorrow as she'd never known it before overwhelmed her so she could barely breathe past the pain in her chest. She turned to her mother, hoping for comfort but at the very least, needing answers. She got neither as her mother turned and walked away.

Left alone, Angel tried to follow, but her leaden feet refused to move. The sound of her grandfather's dark laughter caught her attention and she turned to see his claw-like hands reaching for her, an evil smile upon his face.

Terror banished her paralysis and she ran for her life, not daring to look over her shoulder. Before her, a house materialized from nowhere.

Seeking refuge within, she fled down the main hall, the sound of heavy footsteps following her. Her grandfather had killed her father and now he wanted her.

The doors along the hallway stood closed. Trying one at random, she found it locked. She ran to the next. Locked also. Again and again she tried, until finally one opened.

Sanctuary?

Inside, she ran to the window, but found it barred. The footsteps from the hallway grew louder. Sweat dripped down her face and into her eyes. It was so hot. Wildly, she looked around. There! The closet.

She rushed forward and tried the knob. It opened.

She ducked inside, pulling the door shut. There was no lock, so she gripped the knob with her hands. Trying to quiet her breathing, she listened for the sound of her grandfather’s approach. His footsteps sounded louder. Now they were just outside the closet door.

He'd found her!

Beneath her clinched hands, the doorknob moved, but she held on tightly. He pounded on the door and her body shook with each strike. The inside of the closest grew hotter and she felt smothered. She dragged air into her lungs, unable to get enough. The banging on the door grew violent. How much longer could she hold it shut?

Angel came awake with a start. Covered in sweat and shaken from the dream, she sat up in bed and tried to regain some semblance of calm. The nightmares were coming more frequently and getting worse each time. And more realistic. Even now, wide awake, she found it hard to breathe.

No, it wasn't her imagination. The room really was hot.

Something was wrong.

The ship lurched, nearly knocking her from the bed. It was accompanied by the muted sound of an explosion coming from outside the ship.

Jumping to her feet, Angel tore, barefoot, out of the room and headed for the bridge. It was empty.

“What in the five Hells is going on?” She yelled, knowing the computer could hear her.

“We’re under attack,” it responded, sounding stressed.

“No kidding.” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm as she took the pilot’s seat and studied the status reports scrolling across the screen.

What she'd heard had been the sound of radon torpedoes. Fortunately, the shields had auto-activated as soon as the torpedoes crossed the proximity sensors. Unfortunately, the shields hadn't been enough to prevent damage. The rear port shield had sustained damage and was showing signs of buckling. She wasn’t sure how much more damage the ship could take.

Then she noticed their coordinates on the navigrid. “How’d we get to the Darwin Zone so fast?”

“I increased our speed.”

“You should have notified me first so I could be on the bridge, watching for danger.” Now that she knew where they were, she had a better idea of who was attacking them.

“I tried.” His tone was cold and hard.

“Oh.” Belatedly, she remembered turning down the intercom.

“I altered the environmental controls in the sleeping quarters, hoping that might wake you.”

That explained why it had been so hot. She glanced around the bridge. “Where’s the old man?”

“His name is Yanur. And I don’t know. He’s not responding to my summons.”

The news worried her, but she didn't have time to go look for him. Not while the ship was under attack.

Activating the all-angles view screen, it was hard to miss their attacker. The ship was four times the size of theirs, almost definitely with four times the number of crew members. That alone was reason for concern, but it was the red crisscrossing lightning bolts across the black hull that sent shivers racing up her spine.

Free Rebels.

Pirates that “sailed” outerspace, attacking the unfortunate ships that crossed their path. They took what they wanted - cargo, supplies, even the ships themselves. They never backed down - and they never took hostages.

Angel checked the status of the on-board weapons system knowing they had a long, hard fight before them. Malfunction icons lit the screen indicating their little ship had sustained more damage than she realized. The weapons on the port side were disabled and the rear propulsion tube was inoperable, rendering the ion torpedoes useless. That left the single remaining starboard electromagnetic pulsar and the pulse canons mounted at the front of the ship.

A flash of light across space caught her attention and Angel grabbed the controls. She tried to navigate out of the path of the oncoming barrage of pulsar blasts, but the ship failed to respond.

“What the f..." she hissed. "Computer - give me control of the ship."

"Too dangerous. I need to assess our situation."

Angel's attention stayed focused on the bright lights soaring toward them. "Our situation is that if you don't release the ship right now, we're fucked."

There was a tense moment of silence. “Take it.”

Angel didn't hesitate. With the touch of a lever, the ship rolled to the side, putting their stronger shields toward the attacking ship. A defensive posture, she thought disgustedly, just as the blasts struck them.

Angel gripped her seat to keep from being thrown to the floor as the ship lurched violently. The bridge lights flickered, then went out, leaving the entire bridge in the eerie green glow of the emergency lights. Then all was quiet. Abnormally quiet.

“Computer - verify engines are down," Angel demanded.

"I would prefer you not address me as computer. My name is Romanof. And yes, the engines are down," came the steely voice from the console. "And it's going to take some time to get them back online."

"Well, Romanof," she put special emphasis on the name. "I don’t think we're going to outrun them - and I’m pretty sure we're out-gunned.”

“I have a plan.”

It was more than she had. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m overriding the ship’s diagnostics. When the Rebels scan us, it will appear that we’re totally disabled and all life forms have expired. For this to work, we need to maintain absolute silence. If we're lucky, they'll lose interest and go away.”

And if they don’t? Angel sat and looked out the viewport. The longer the rebel ship sat and studied them, the tighter the knot in her stomach became.

A sound from behind drew her attention. Yanur stood leaning against the entryway, blood streaming from wounds on his head, arm and leg.

“Oh!” She rushed to help him into one of the passenger seats. "How bad are you hurt?” She bent over the older man to get a better look for herself.

“I think my leg is broken,” he said, surprising her. Getting to the bridge must have been extremely painful.

"Quiet," Romanof hissed.

Angel shot the console an annoyed look then, turning back to Yanur, whispered, “What happened?”

She touched her finger to her lips to signal he should speak quietly and then while he explained, she found the bridge's first aid kit. Removing a sterile wipe, she cleaned the cuts on his forehead and shoulder.

“I was taking a nap," he whispered. "I didn’t know the ship was under attack until the rocking woke me. I got up too fast and lost my balance.”

“Quiet,” Romanof said more insistently. “Not one more sound.”

Worried the older man might be going into shock, Angel took the thermal sheet from the first aid kit and unfolded it. After wrapping it around his shoulders, she glanced out the viewport.

“I don’t think your plan worked.”

The rebel ship was coming towards them. With the engines down, they were sitting ducks.

Angel moved to the side viewport as the ship pulled alongside them. The cold chill of fear raced up her spine at the sight of a space tunnel emerging from the side of the Free Rebel ship and extending out toward the hatch of the Icarus.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Angel shouted, punching the button that would start the engines.

Nothing happened.

"The systems are damaged" Romanof said, answering her unasked question. "It’s going to take approximately ninety seconds to recode them and fix the problem.”

The wail of a deep-space drill grinding through metal started up, adding to her sense of impending doom - as if she wasn't already stressed enough. “That’s ninety-one seconds longer than we have. They’re drilling through the lock on the outer door!”

Angel raced from the bridge. If the rebels broke through the door, it would be twenty or more bloodthirsty pirates against a computer, an invalid and her. Not great odds.

If she wanted to take the rebels by surprise, she didn't have much time - but facing them without a weapon was suicide. She raced to the supply closet she noticed on her earlier tour of the ship, praying it would have something she could use.

Inside it, she found an odd array of items and, unfortunately, not a single laser or pulsar weapon.

On impulse, she grabbed a T120 fire-gel and a timer before racing off toward the airlock. She was halfway there when she stopped and hurried back to the closet. She'd thought of a plan - or rather, she'd been struck with the merest glimmer of an idea. Grabbing an oxygen mask, a docking-harness and a tether, she raced toward the airlock.

“Are they through yet?” She shouted as she ran, knowing Romanof could hear her.

“No.”

Time was critical. Reaching the outer doors, she palmed the control plate. The doors opened on a silent swoosh of air.

The shriek of drills tearing into the metal of the outer hull filled the small airlock chamber. She slapped the inside control plate, closing the doors and sealing herself inside.

Setting everything on the floor at her feet, she went to work. Starting with the docking-harness, she put it on and pulled the straps tight across her chest. Then she connected one end of the tether to the harness and fastened the other end to a wall hook. She strapped the oxygen mask to her face and took a few breaths to regulate the flow. If everything went according to plan, the tethering and oxygen would be unnecessary, but she knew better than to count on luck.

Finally, she connected the timer to the fire-gel and set it for thirty seconds. Now came the real fun.

With a quick mental count to three to calm herself, she started the timer and set the fire-gel on the floor in front of her. She hit the control that raised the outer hatch door.

Caught off guard, the rebels stopped their drilling. When the door had cleared less than half a meter, Angel kicked the fire gel under and slapped the control again, lowering the door. That was when her luck ran out.

One of the rebels shoved his drill under the door, preventing it from closing. She watched in horror as he squirmed through the gap and when he stood before her, Angel got her first up-close look at a Free Rebel. He was humanoid, but resembled nothing human.

Fathomless black eyes peered at her out of a chalky, white, cadaverous head, sizing her up. Angel knew the precise moment when the rebel decided she was easy prey; it was the same moment he smiled at her, revealing multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

Another rebel slipped his hand beneath the door, intending to come through as well, but just then, the gel bomb exploded. The impact knocked the drill out from under the door and it slammed shut.

The rebel whose arm had just been crushed cried out in pain, but Angel spared him hardly a thought beyond an acknowledgement that these creatures could be hurt.

Grabbing the fastener on her harness, she tried to free herself, but couldn't get it to open. With the tether securing her to the wall, she was trapped; a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. The rebel knew it too because he chose that moment to attack.

The first blow caught her in the side of the head and she fell back. Blinded by the sharp sparks of light brought on by the pain, she lashed out with a front kick that connected with the rebel’s stomach.

He doubled over, falling back a step and Angel tried again to free herself. Her fingers fumbled unsuccessfully with the buckle and too soon, her unwanted guest straightened, this time holding a knife.

Angel jumped back as he slashed at her, but the wall stopped her retreat. With the next sweep of his hand, the tip of the blade sliced through her harness and Angel hissed at the sudden sharp sting that told her the tip of the blade had penetrated the shirt to her skin.

It was a scratch, nothing more. That's what she told herself, at least, so she wouldn't look, wouldn't get distracted in case it was a lot worse than a "scratch."

She braced for the next attack but instead of attacking, the rebel stood there, staring at her. It was then she became aware of her ripped shirt hanging open and the cool air brushing against her bare breasts.

As the Rebel’s eyes widened and his smile grew feral, a new fear gripped her. Assault was one thing; rape was another.

“Michels, report in. Michels!” In the background, Romanof’s voice called to her.

Before she could even think to call out, the Rebel attacked, this time pinning her against the wall. She struggled against him, but he laughed at her efforts. Dropping his knife, he placed one hand against her throat and grabbed her breast with the other. She winced when he squeezed it painfully.

“Michels, are you all right?”

“Open the outer door,” she screamed; bracing her back against the wall, she shoved the rebel back a step. The outer hatch door opened and immediately everything not anchored down was sucked out into open space, past the mutilated remains of what had once been the rebels’ tunnel.

Fighting the pull, the rebel grabbed for anything he could hang on to, in this case, Angel. As he lost to the drag of outer space, he slid down her body until he clutched her ankle. Angel watched a scrap of her ripped shirt sail across the room and disappear through the open doorway. As the pull of space increased, her feet slid out from under her and she was lifted off the floor.

She began to slip out of the broken harness and quickly crossed her arms, locking them in front of her, holding on for dear life.

With the rebel still clutching her ankle, Angel was pulled off balance and dangled from the end of the tether like a streamer in a strong wind. Outside, she saw the last of the tunnel break free of the Icarus, pulling the rebel ship with it to drift away.

When Angel felt a slight shift in the tether, she risked a look back and saw that the anchor to which the tether was hooked was starting to pull away from the wall. She was on borrowed time. Looking down into the rebel's face, she saw in his eyes the realization that, very soon, they were both going to die. Again he smiled at her because he thought he'd won.

“Not today.” She gritted her teeth and, bringing her free leg up, slammed it down sharply on the rebel’s face. The sound of breaking cartilage motivated her to kick again. The Rebel’s grip loosened and Angel delivered a third blow.

He lost his grip and was sucked out of the ship.

Then Angel felt herself slip. Looking back, she saw one of the bolts anchoring the harness to the wall was loose and wobbling precariously. In the next instant, it popped free and shot past her into space.

“Shut the door!” She screamed as the remaining bolt slipped further out of the wall. She twisted her body, desperately clawing behind her to find something to grab.

Her mind screamed in frustration as the door failed to move. Then the last bolt burst from the wall and Angel was airborne.

Chapter 4

Angel sailed toward the black void of deep space, body-slamming into the outer door as it slid into place just in time. She slumped to the floor and lay there, trembling, disgusted with her reaction. The sudden roar of the ship’s engines sounded faint and distant. Somewhere in the corner of her mind, she realized Romanof had the ship moving. She doubted the rebels would follow. She didn’t think there were any left alive.

“Michels, report in.” Romanof’s voice boomed over the intercom. She ignored it as she took a few more steadying breaths.

“Michels, damn it, report in! Are you all right?”

She peeled off the oxygen mask and harness, letting them slip to the floor.

“Michels, answer me!” It was interesting, she mused, how his voice sounded so human-like – concern mixed with irritation.

“I’m okay.” It took effort to sound calmer than she felt.

“Good. Get back here. Yanur needs your help.”

She let her head drop forward in resigned disbelief. It wasn’t as if she was lounging in a thermal pool. But Yanur was hurt and she wasn’t - at least, not badly - so she pulled herself together, gathered the mask and what was left of the harness and tether and left the airlock.

If she wanted to maintain her disguise, she’d have to do something about her clothes. So before heading to the bridge, she stopped by her room. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she absently smoothed down hair that had been whipped to a frenzy about her head. Then she found her boots and put them on.

Her jacket lay on the end of the bed, where she’d discarded it earlier. She put it on and zipped it closed to hide her torn shirt. Then she studied her reflection in the mirror and hoped that the old man wouldn’t look at her too closely.

When she reached the bridge, a quick glance out the viewports confirmed that Romanof had everything under control.

"Let's take a look," she said moving to Yanur’s side, wondering where to start. Gingerly, she felt his leg, trying to assess the extent of the damage.

“How bad is he?” Romanof asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m fine, Alex. I keep telling you.” Yanur smiled, reaching out to pat her hand. “If you’ll secure a brace to my leg and help me to my room, I’ll be fine.”

She pulled her hand back, frowning at the gesture and went to the first aid cabinet where she removed one of the larger braces. She stretched his leg out straight, placed the brace behind it and secured it in place with the self-adhering tabs. Next she cleaned the cuts on his head and shoulder again and this time closed them with butterfly bandages.

"You think you can make it back to your room?" she asked when she was done.

"With your help," he assured her.

Helping him to his feet, she let him lean on her as they walked to his room.

“You are very brave young woman,” he said once they'd reached his room.

Angel turned startled eyes on him. “How did you know?” She whispered, not wanting Romanof to overhear.

“My dear, I may be old, but I’m not blind.” He waved his hand, silencing her when she would have spoken. “No, I know what I thought and said following the terrorist attack, but I was confused and you were a mess. Since then, I’ve had time to study you.”

She shrugged. So her disguise hadn’t been as good as she’d hoped. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Is he for real?”

“Who? Alex? You mean - is he really a man? Yes, he is.”

“But how is that possible? I'm mean, he's got no body."

"Well, there's quite a lot of science involved in how that's possible - which I won't bore you with. Suffice it to say that it's possible because his life essence is sustained by means of a CHB.”

"A what?"

"Cyber-hosted biopod," he said as if that explained it.

She knew she was staring at him stupidly, but just couldn't stop. Upon seeing her expression, Yanur smiled. “The tube. The one I was wearing around my neck and then plugged into the ship's console?” He looked at her to see if she remembered, continuing after she nodded. “It’s currently housing Alex’s life essence. The cybernetic components allow him to interface with the ship’s computer, which in turn, allows him to communicate with us, and-”

“And control the ship,” she finished for him.

He smiled. “That’s right.”

She shook her head. “I think he's crazy. Why would he do it? Why let the Harvesters take his body?”

“Because it was the surest way to locate their home planet."

"The rest of your life as a computer in exchange for the location of a planet? Doesn't seem like a great trade-off if you ask me."

"Not such a big trade-off," Yanur assured her as she helped him to sit on the bed. "Once we have his body back, we'll just transfer his life essence back"

Angel stared at him. "Come again?"

Yanur frowned. "I guess, in all the excitement we forgot...he probably doesn't want you to know--"

"I won't say anything if you won't."

"Very well. The plan was for Richardson to pose as a deep space trader and purchase Alex's body at the public auction on the Harvesters’ planet. Then, Richardson would restore Alex's life essence and together, they could infiltrate the city and gather information.” He paused to sigh. "Of course, with Richardson gone, I suppose I'll be the one to go in his place."

"Are you going to be okay in here?" She asked him, after making sure he was comfortably seated.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "I just need some rest."

"Okay.” As she left, she stopped at the doorway to look back. “Let's pretend finding his body won't be like finding a solar thread in the middle of a supernova. How hard is it to restore his life essence?”

"In theory, not that hard," he replied.

“Meaning what exactly?” She was afraid she already knew what was coming next. "Please tell me you've done it before."

“No, but there’s no reason to believe it won’t work as planned.” His tone wasn’t nearly as convincing as his words.

“How reassuring.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Assuming for the moment that your process works, how do we know the Harvesters haven’t done something to his body? Like hack it into pieces. They sell replacement organs as well as slaves, you know. There might not be a body to restore his life essence to. He could end up being in that computer for a long time.”

"It's unlikely Alex will end up as "parts," Yanur assured her with a knowing smile. "I think that once you've seen him, you'll agree that the odds are extremely good he'll be sold as a sex slave."

"Well, bully for him," Angel muttered as she turned and left. Romanof might be into suicide missions, but Angel just didn't hate her life enough to want to join in.

There was still time before they reached the Harvesters’ planet to figure out a way to escape the Icarus and when that time came, she was on her own.

Returning to the bridge, she sat in the pilot's seat and studied the console. It took her a few minutes, but she finally figured out how to run a ship's diagnostic. She compared the results to the readings on several gauges. Romanof must have fixed the program while she was with Yanur because the results matched.

When she was satisfied that the gel bomb had not adversely affected the Icarus and Romanof was making the needed system repairs, she let her mind wander to the information Yanur had shared with her. She didn’t know which bothered her more. That a man’s living essence had been placed inside a computer or that this particular computer was really a man.

“The auto-repair program won’t be able to fix everything,” Romanof’s voice broke the silence, making her wonder how he knew she was there. “I'm able to detect life-form readings," he told her when she asked. "The pattern of yours is different from Yanur's, which shows him to still be in his cabin."

A tentative silence descended as Angel struggled with what she needed to say. “I want to thank you for what you did back there. Closing the hatch door when you did. For a minute there, I thought I was about to be just so much space debris.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.” The warm, deep voice washed over her.

“Yes, well.” She felt uncomfortable, still coming to grips with the knowledge that the sexy voice actually belonged to a man - an attractive man, if Yanur's assessment was correct.

"We still have the Harvesters to deal with.”

His words were like a splash of cold ice water on her overheating imagination and Angel let out a sigh as she rose to her feet. “I’m going back to my room.”

“Why?”

“If you must know, I want to wash away the dried blood and change into some clothes that aren't ripped to shreds.”

“You said you were okay.” He actually sounded concerned.

“I am. Just a few scratches.”

Angel didn’t wait around to see if he said anything else. The walk to her room seemed to take forever and once inside, she fell back against the closed door, exhausted. Shutting her eyes, she took deep breaths and forced herself to relax. Then, with what felt like the last of her energy, she walked across the room and kicked off her boots. The jacket came off next, tossed to the floor in front of the closet.

When she started on the jumpsuit, she took extra care when peeling the dried fabric away from her scratched chest and the cut across her stomach. Once it was completely off, she shoved the jumpsuit down the recycler. Almost as an afterthought, she reached over and turned up the volume on the intercom.

She found a brush and carefully worked through the tangles in her hair. Once the brush easily glided through the strands, she set down the brush and walked into the D-U. She really wanted to soak in a pool of hot, fragrant water, but that would have to wait until she was back home.

Home. She had no home. The depressing thought depleted the rest of her energy. She stepped into the shower and turned on the fine Supercleanze spray. After adjusting the temperature, she rested her forehead against the wall and let the steamy hot mist envelop her.

* * * * *

Yanur sat on his bed marveling over Michels. He had thought her nothing more than a common thief, but in the past twenty-four hours, she had shown there was nothing common about her at all. With unsurpassed flying skills, a quick intellect and unwavering courage, she reminded him of a young man he had once known; a young man who had risked everything to break a political prisoner out of jail during a time of war.

Thinking of the young man Alex used to be made Yanur smile. The smile turned into quiet laughter when Yanur considered the fireworks that lay ahead when the flesh and blood Alex came face to face with Michels.

Careful not to put too much pressure on his broken leg, he pushed himself to a standing position and limped over to the table where he’d left his medical bag. It wasn't there and he knew a moment of panic as he looked around. Finally, he spotted the bag lying in the corner of the room, where it must have been thrown during the attack.

He moved as quickly as his damaged leg would allow and bent to pick it up. This bag contained his most precious scientific inventions and he was afraid of what might lay broken within. Then a more horrifying thought hit him. What if the transfer disc had been destroyed?

A cold fear gripped his heart as he looked inside.

He found the disc close to the top and after turning it over several times and finding no damage, he breathed a sigh of relief. Replacing it, he noticed a vibration coming from deeper within the bag. Searching for the source, he found the Cellular Reparator. Somehow when the bag had been tossed about, the Reparator had been activated. He took it out and flipped it over to read the crystal battery gauge. As he feared, the power level, already low, now showed the crystals to be almost completely drained. There might not be enough charge left to mend his broken leg.

He undid the self-adhering tabs securing the brace and removed it. Unfastening his pants, he let them fall to the ground, baring his legs. Then, with purposeful movements, he ran the warm beam of the Reparator over his broken leg.

The warm tingle of increased molecular activity told him the cells were beginning to mend. Before the bone and flesh could do more than lightly knit together, the Reparator died.

A feeling of defeat consumed him. Alex was counting on his assistance when they reached their destination, but he wouldn’t be much help with a broken leg. The Reparator ran on pure tyrillium crystals, which were not so readily available.

Michels. The thought came unbidden and Yanur knew with certainty that Alex would suggest the "boy" take his place for the rest of the mission.

He couldn’t allow that. Going into a closely guarded black market environment was dangerous. What if she found Alex’s body but had to fight to secure it? She had survived the Free Rebel attack, but could she fight the Harvesters? They could prove to be a far worse adversary. What if she was injured? Or worse, what if she was killed?

Which lead Yanur to his final argument. Alex. Althusians were very protective of their females – Alex even more so. He would rather suffer a thousand deaths than allow a woman to suffer the smallest of injuries.

Yanur had merely to reveal the truth about Michels and Alex would refuse to let her help. But in doing so, what cost would Alex pay?

With a heavy heart, Yanur set the Reparator carefully back in the bag and strapped the brace around his broken leg.

Straightening, he heaved a sigh and squared his shoulders. Then he headed for the bridge.

* * * * *

Ruling House of Scyphor

Planet of Coronado

Sitting behind the desk where he conducted most of his business, the High Counsel of the House of Scyphor, the dominant region on the planet of Coronado, confronted the two soldiers standing before him. His three most trusted advisors stood silently by his side.

“High Counsel, we went to Earth as instructed,” the first soldier began. He was the older of the two and battle worn, with scars crisscrossing his face and bare arms. As were most Coronadian males, both were tall and muscular, with warring blades hanging at their sides.

“Where is she?” The elderly man’s cold tone was as sharp as glass shards.

Neither warrior allowed any emotion to cross his face. “We tracked her to the airfield,” the older one said. “Felinean Avengers were after her and she escaped in an airship. Before we could intercept her, Colossus Disrupters attacked the airfield.” There was the barest hesitation before he continued. “We lost her in the confusion.” He fell silent. He had failed his mission. It was a blemish to his personal reputation and to the reputation of the legion of warriors he represented.

“Am I to understand that after eight years of carefully tracking her and letting her think she has eluded me that she has finally succeeded?” The High Counsel’s hand slammed down on the desk, his face darkening with rage. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes, High Counsel.”

“And the Felineans? I suppose you allowed them to escape as well?”

“No, High Counsel. I executed them.”

“Very well. Leave me,” the High Counsel growled, waving a gnarled hand toward the door. After the soldiers left, he turned to his three advisors.

“Contact our emissaries. When she resurfaces, I want to be the first to know. She--” He fell into a coughing paroxysm. The young men moved closer to offer assistance, although they knew nothing could be done. The old man was dying. It was just a matter of time.

When the spell subsided, the High Counsel raised his hand and the men stepped back. “Find her and see that she is brought back. Now leave me. I wish to be alone.”

Behind his back, the men exchanged glances, but nothing on their faces revealed their thoughts. They bowed and walked from the room. None of them spoke before parting to go in different directions, presumably to carry out the High Counsel’s directives.

As the three each walked away, one considered how best to execute the High Counsel’s orders, one fantasized about the young kitchen maid whose charms he plotted to enjoy in the very near future - and the last thought about plans to save his people and take over a planet.

* * * * *

Angel lost track of time as she stood directly under the shower’s spray and let the warmth seep into her pores and loosen tight muscles. Lulled into a dreamlike state, her thoughts wandered to Romanof.

What kind of man was he? Dangerous, she decided, her mind conjuring an image of a darkly sensuous man, his face hidden in shadow. Moving with the grace of a panther, his sleek, powerful body moved close to hers. Rough hands caressed her, leaving highly sensitive skin tingling in the wake of his warm touch. When he whispered words of passion into her ear, it was Romanof’s full, masculine voice she heard. Oh yes, very dangerous.

She’d been alone too long if she was starting to fantasize about a computer, she thought abruptly, shaking off the last remnants of the daydream. As for Romanof, he was probably an old man like Yanur, who just happened to have a great voice. Hell, it probably wasn't even his voice.

She turned off the shower’s mist and stood for a few seconds letting the last drops of moisture evaporate, feeling disgusted with herself for letting a computer-generated voice arouse her imagination. Such daydreaming was absurd. Her number one concern at the moment should be getting back to Earth where she could enlist Dugan’s help to get safely to a location of her choosing.

Slipping out of the shower, she went in search of clothes. Again, a pleasant musky scent filled her senses when she opened the closet door, reviving briefly the image of her dark dream-lover. Then a new thought occurred to her. These were Romanof’s clothes! Unable to stop herself, she leaned further into the closet, inhaling the musky scent and letting her hand trail lightly across the garments while she enjoyed the feel of well-worn cloth against her fingertips.

Tightening the leash on her imagination, Angel pulled out a uni-fit jumpsuit and put it on. She found the comb and dragged it roughly through her hair, using the pain to help focus her concentration.

She was back in control by the time all the tangles were out. After putting on her boots, she picked up the supplies she had discarded earlier and walked out of the room.

She replaced the items in the closet where she’d found them and, as she shut the door, the sound of voices from the bridge caught her attention.

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

Angel detected an apologetic tone to Yanur’s voice. “What’s up?” She asked, walking onto the bridge to sit in the pilot’s chair. Her question met with silence, so she looked at Yanur, but found his expression unreadable.

“Yanur has just informed me that he will be unable to assist me when we reach the Harvesters' planet,” Romanof said.

“Because of his broken leg?” Angel asked.

“Correct. Therefore, I require your assistance, Michels.”

“What?” Angel asked at the same time that Yanur said, “No.”

“Is there a problem?” Romanof asked.

Angel looked at Yanur, curiosity momentarily distracting her from her objection. “I know why I’m objecting, but why are you? Don’t you think I can help? Or maybe you don’t trust me.”

“I think you know why I’m objecting. Now, you can tell him or I will.”

“Tell me what?” Romanof asked while Angel continued to study Yanur.

Any delay in retrieving Romanof’s body increased the chances of never recovering it. Why would Yanur condemn his friend to eternity as a computer, unwilling to even make the attempt? Romanof obviously had no problem sending her into highly dangerous situation, unless…

A new thought hit her. Maybe Yanur hadn’t yet told Romanof she was a woman. She pinned the older man with her gaze. “You said earlier that I was brave. Don’t you think I can do this?”

“It’s not what I think that’s important here.”

So the objection would be Romanof’s. Interesting, she thought. “He wants me to go.”

“He doesn’t know the truth.”

Did that mean that Romanof would change his mind if he knew she was a woman? He would rather spend eternity as a computer?

It would serve him right, she thought, for being narrow-minded.

Well, she had grown up around men like him - men who thought women were inferior, unequal to men in intellect and skill. In fact, she had left home to get away from men like that and the last eight years were proof enough that she was as capable of surviving the dangers of the universe as any man.

Of course, if she wanted off the ship, then why was she even considering taking on this mission? Was she crazy? All she had to do was tell Romanof the truth and he'd dump her at the nearest safe port.

"Would someone like to tell me what the problem is?" Romanof asked, his tone causing the image of the man from her daydream to flicker to life before she could squelch it.

Was she willing to sentence Romanof to eternity as a computer without even trying to help him? Was she that selfish?

“No problems.” Angel looked pointedly to Yanur. “I’ll do it."

Yanur looked sorry as he shook his head. "I can't let you. You're a wo--"

“Boy?” Angel blurted out. “He thinks I can't do it because I'm young, just a boy. But I'm not as young as you think. I’m twenty-three and I think I’ve already proven I can handle myself under fire.” She directed her next words exclusively to Yanur. "I'm his best shot at getting back his body. Just because I'm not Richardson doesn't mean I can't do this."

The wait, though only seconds, seemed interminably long.

“Perhaps Michels is right,” Yanur finally said.

“Then let’s get started,” Romanof said. “Yanur, show Michels how to operate the transfer unit. When you’re done, we’ll go over my plan.”

“Shall we?” Yanur rose from his chair and gestured to the door. Angel stood and preceded him out. “Perhaps we could stop by the galley,” he added. “I find I could use a drink.”

Chapter 5

After an hour of going over the operation of the transfer disc, Yanur pronounced Angel ready. Romanof had outlined his plan, which seemed simple enough, and then Angel retired to her room to rest until Romanof summoned her hours later.

As soon as they entered the Harvesters' air space they were contacted by Ground Control. Romanof persuaded the authorities they were traders, intent on spending large sums of money. He then followed up the story with a sizable transfer of intergalactic credits into a temporary account to prove they had the funds to transact business.

In return, they were given the coordinates for the landing field and Angel, now piloting the ship, merged into the busy traffic pattern, descending slowly to the surface, to what appeared to be a large tarmac. As soon as they landed, a stasis field enveloped the ship, pinning it to the surface. Stasis fields were not unusual, but were usually pilot-activated. Angel had issued no such command.

“Romanof?”

“Planet-activated insurance policy. Probably to make sure we settle our accounts before we leave,” he deduced. “Black market planets don’t attract the most trustworthy clients.”

Angel shut off the engines. “What now?”

“Time to go shopping.”

“So soon?” She felt an unwelcome tremor of apprehension. She had reconciled herself to going out among the Harvesters, but what was the rush?

“I’ve been monitoring local transmissions. It’s about mid-morning here and the business district is just opening. The ship we followed arrived just before sun-up, so the bodies on board are likely to be sold this morning - while they're still fresh. I don't want to take the chance of missing my body when it goes up for sale."

“How am I going to know which one is yours? I don’t know what you look like,” she pointed out.

“Not a problem,” Romanof informed her. “You'll take me along in the CHB. We’ll establish communication via a concealed comm-link, which you’ll wear. The ship will track my body’s signal and transmit its location relative to the CHB. I’ll tell you when we’ve located it. All you have to do is purchase it."

Angel gave Yanur a weak smile. "Gee, it sounds so easy."

Neither man seemed to notice her sarcasm. They were all business.

“Yanur, you’ll stay on board and monitor transmissions.” He paused. "At the first sign of trouble, take off. Type in the command “Go Home” and the ship will transfer enough credits to the bank to ensure you receive departure clearance and release the stasis field. The ship will then return automatically to Earth. Same thing if we’re not back in sixty hours."

“I won’t leave without you,” the older man protested.

“If we’re not back in sixty hours, then we’re not coming back. Ever.”

The proclamation made Yanur visibly shudder - and did nothing to reassure Angel.

Five minutes later, Angel was standing just inside the hatch, the CHB hanging around her neck and the transfer unit, a small, flat disc, in her pocket. Yanur, being about her size, had loaned her a pair of his dark pants and a shirt more in keeping with the image of a black market trader than the uni-fit suit she’d been wearing.

She’d found a black vest in the closet that helped further mask her figure because female couriers were rare and drew notice and the less attention she drew to herself, the better. She'd ripped the back out of one of Romanof's larger shirts and wrapped the cloth around her head to cover it, tying it in the back as did most deep space traders.

Her final accessory, her own addition, was a small hand laser strapped around her lower arm, just under the cover of her sleeve. It was her personal version of a security blanket.

“Are you okay?” Yanur joined her in the hatch, his eyes offering a sympathetic look.

I’m going out, virtually alone, on a planet inhabited by a blood-thirsty race of aliens in order to retrieve the body of a man whose life essence is hanging around my neck.

“Sure, I’m good. Never better. Let's do this!” Okay, that last part sounded a bit over the top and had Yanur giving her a quizzical look.

Just then she felt a vibration in her ear followed by Romanof's voice. “Time to go.”

It sounded a lot like it had in the ship and she wondered if it might really be his actual voice. A part of her could hardly wait to check out his body to see if it matched the sexy voice, though with her luck, he probably looked more like Yanur.

Yanur gave her shoulder a final squeeze and then, opening the hatch, he stood aside as she walked through.

“Be careful,” he said, once she'd stepped outside. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t dare with Romanof able to hear everything.

Angel gave what she hoped was a smile, but probably just made her look like she was in pain. “I will,” she said with a reassurance far greater than she felt and waited while Yanur shut the hatch door.

The landing field was nothing more than an open stretch of barren ground; a flat surface broken intermittently by giant stasis towers standing sentry duty over a field of ships. At the far end was the port authority, a massive building through which everyone arriving and leaving the planet had to pass. Stretching out on either side of the port authority and separating the landing field from the rest of the planet was an impenetrable perimeter wall, the height of which dwarfed even the stasis towers.

She should be used to this, Angel thought, heading for the port authority. As a courier of illegal goods, she landed on strange and hostile planets all the time. Why the Harvesters bothered her more than the usual run of scum, she didn’t know. They just did. Maybe because they were like the bogeymen of childhood nightmares, appearing out of nowhere on dark, starless nights to kidnap their victims.

I should have my head examined for doing this.

Once she reached the port authority, Angel stopped just inside to look around. The building was a two-story structure with offices running the perimeter of the second floor, but was otherwise open from top to bottom. The place had a funny antiseptic odor that fit perfectly with the sterile, plain white walls and floors. The only touch of color came from the clothes worn by the arriving and departing black market traders and from the artificial plants set haphazardly about the place.

Occasionally she saw figures walk by cloaked entirely in white robes. She assumed these were Harvesters.

Near the front exit of the building, a line had formed of those wishing admittance to the planet. One by one, each visitor passed before posted guards and stepped through a scanner. Angel took her place at the back of the line.

She'd stood there only five or ten tocks when a man’s scream rent the air. It was followed by a hushed, unnatural silence. When the eventual drone of whispers began, it started at the front of the line, gradually working its way toward Angel.

“-vaporized, damn shame.”

“-regular.”

“-even knew the rules.”

“-tried to sneak a weapon past the guards.”

“One minute, everything’s fine-“

“-the next-bam!“

Angel stopped listening - and started looking for a place to dump her laser. Romanof hadn't mentioned anything to her about weapons being prohibited when he’d briefed her on what he’d learned about the Harvesters. She hated to lose the gun, but not as much as she hated getting vaporized.

“What’s wrong?” Romanof buzzed in her ear.

“Later,” she hissed, not wanting anyone to think she was talking to herself. Off to the side, past a grouping of artificial plants, was the vid-screen map of the city. Abandoning her place in line, Angel went to study it. It wasn't a total pretense since she wanted a better understanding of the city's layout. Within moments, she had memorized the basic concentric square layout of buildings with the market at its center.

Before turning to head back to the line, she activated her laser's release mechanism, allowing the weapon to slip into her hand. Then she headed back to the line, brushing past the nearest plant and releasing her weapon so it dropped down into the artificial leaves and slid to the bottom of the pot, fully concealed from view. With a sigh of relief, she continued as nonchalantly as she could, to rejoin the line.

When her turn through the security gates arrived, she passed inspection without mishap. Two of the white-robed figures questioned her about her intentions, speaking in standard Terran, the language common among most trade planets, legitimate or black market. Her responses proved satisfactory, thanks to Romanof’s quiet buzzing in her ear. With a final pass through a sani-ray to destroy any foreign contaminants, she followed the rest of the new arrivals through the exit corridor leading away from the building.

Outside, standing on the street, Angel studied the nearest buildings, all constructed of white stone, and the paved roads and walkways congested with pedestrians, but not a lot of ground or air shuttles.

Looking behind her, Angel noticed that the corridor through which she’d just emerged was one-way, exit only. To her right, about a half-block away, the heavily guarded entrance to the control tower was visible. She studied the area, committing the location to memory. When the time came, she wanted to know how to find the airfield again.

“Where to?” Angel asked softly.

“I don’t know. I’m not getting a clear signal. There may be too much interference from the tower. Start walking and I’ll let you know if I pick up the signal.”

Remembering from the vid-screen map that the main market square was just off to her right, Angel headed that way, along with a large number of the new arrivals. As she walked, she grew uncomfortably warm. Looking around for a more shaded path to the square, she noticed a total absence of trees. In fact, there was no plant life to be found anywhere. No trees, no grass, no flowers. Nothing.

“How does a planet survive without plant life?” She mumbled.

“I think the answer is, it doesn’t,” Romanof answered in her ear. “My scan of the planet indicates that it’s dying.”

Angel wondered if the Harvesters were doing anything to save their world and how stealing beings from other planets could possibly be a part of that plan.

“I think we’re at the market square,” she whispered to Romanof a few minutes later when she reached a street lined with shops and teaming with traders. “Are you picking up your body’s signal?”

“No.”

“Any suggestions?” She started down one side, gazing into the booths and shops she passed.

“Just walk around and try to look interested. But don’t buy anything.”

“I’ll try to resist.” Angel pushed aside the beaded entrance to the first shop she came to and froze.

“What's going on?" Romanof's voice buzzed in her ear. "Your pulse is racing."

Angel tried to calm herself as she stared at the rows of perfectly preserved bodies standing on shelves around the room in grotesque mimicry of dolls in a doll shop. "I just walked into a body shop. It's filled with Earthlings, Althusians, Felinians, Solbians - almost every known species is here.” She paused. “I think they're all dead.”

The bodies, standing side-by-side, lined the walls, their eyes staring vacantly ahead.

Then one blinked.

"Oh my God. Romanof, they're still alive." She was horrified.

"It’s okay, Michels.” Romanof’s warm voice was calm above the furious pounding of her heart. “Don’t let anyone see you’re upset.”

“There’re just so many of them,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize...” Her words faltered and she couldn’t go on.

“I know. But the worst is over for them. Remember, these are only the shells Now, tell me what you see.”

Obediently, she tried to detach her emotions, to focus on the mission. A bit mechanically, she described the barely clothed bodies in front of her.

“Males, humanoid, approximate ages between mid-forties and fifties, healthy but not what I would consider athletic.”

“All of them?”

Angel scanned the walls. “Yes.”

“Okay. You can leave. My body is not among these.”

“Why is that?”

“Wrong profile.”

She had no clue what he meant by that, but rather than ask, she left the shop and continued down the street. “You want me to try the next shop?”

“Yes, let me...wait...there! I’ve got a signal. It’s about 750 meters north-northeast.”

Angel looked around. From her current location, north-northeast would be back behind the next street where she noticed a group of traders now heading.

She followed them and soon found herself on a path leading between two shops to an area that looked like an outdoor theater. Rows of chairs faced an empty stage, which was attached to a small building. Low fencing surrounded the entire seating area and the only entrance was through a registration area.

Once again, Angel found herself waiting in line.

“Standard of credit?” The robed figure asked when she reached the front.

“Terran,” she answered.

“Ship?”

“Icarus.”

Angel recognized the virtual keyboard as the man typed something in the air, but it took her a second to find the small, cube-like computer sitting on the table before him. It was too small to have a screen and then she realized the man was wearing virtual glasses where the computer screen appeared as an image in the lenses only the wearer could see. After a moment, he nodded.

"All right. Here's your card.” He handed her a thin palm-sized digital tablet. “To bid on a donor, press the side button once and enter the collar number on the screen.” He pressed the button to demonstrate. “Once the number registers, it will turn from red to blue. At that point, enter your bid amount.

“Each bidding session is fifteen tocks. Within that time, you may change your bid amount as often as you like. When the number turns back to red, bidding is over and you'll be prevented from entering additional bids. If your last bid turns out to be the high bid, you'll get a notification on your tablet. It should appear within five tocks after close of the session.

“No notification means better luck next time. You may bid on as many donors as you wish until the auction is over, at which time you will report back here to verify and pay for your purchase. Once payment is confirmed, you may take your donor with you or leave instructions for specific programming and pick it up later. Once you have taken possession of your purchase, there can be no returns. Any questions?”

“How soon until the auction begins?”

“About forty tocks,” he said.

In Terran standard, that was about twenty minutes, so Angel decided to find a place to sit. She selected a spot in the second row, slightly apart from the other buyers where she wouldn't be overheard talking to Romanof. “Are you still picking up a signal?”

“Yes, just a couple of meters from here.”

She felt a rush of excitement. "Your body must be backstage. I could sneak back there now and--"

"No.” Romanof cut her off. "Securing my body through the auction is the safest way to retrieve it without raising alarms. I don't want to be forced to leave before I've had a chance to conduct a proper reconnaissance."

Angel didn't like the thought of remaining on the planet any longer than absolutely necessary. The Harvesters were one big creep fest, from the Harvesters’ trade in bodies to their desolate, bleak planet and faceless, hooded white robes.

"You'd think a race that deals in body parts wouldn't have such a hang up on cleanliness,” Angel commented, noticing the abundance of decontamination booths all over the place.

Romanof remained quiet.

"We'll get your body back," she assured him, knowing that must be uppermost in his thoughts just now.

"I know."

The left stage door opened, drawing her attention. She watched a cloaked figure appear, leading the first donor forward. It was an alien form that Angel had never seen before and resembled a large, blue blob with elongated arms, or legs, she couldn’t tell which.

"Auction's starting," she told Romanof. "First specimen is on stage."

"The signal hasn't moved, so that's not my body."

"Yeah, I figured," she muttered, watching as the blue blob oozed across the stage and disappeared through the back while another "blob-being" was led out.

“How are they able to walk?” she asked a few minutes later after watching several donors ambulate onto stage and then off again.

“Each donor is wearing a control device in close proximity to their brain. For the humanoids, it will appear as a collar around the neck.”

That gave Angel something new to worry about. “How will I remove yours? I didn’t bring any special equipment.”

“You won’t need it,” Romanof replied. “The collars come off easily.”

Then why hasn’t a donor pulled one off and tried to escape? Then it hit her. With their life essence removed, these donors were a case of light’s on but no one’s home. It made her hate the Harvesters just a little bit more.

The first part of the auction passed in relative ease for Angel, as several different life forms, none of which resembled humans, were escorted across the stage and sold. It wasn’t until the first human donor walked across the stage, a young woman Angel guessed to be in her mid-twenties, that it became uncomfortable to watch. Each successive donor, staring out at the audience with vacuous eyes, was led across the stage, completely nude except for a numbered metallic collar worn around his or her neck. Angel found the sight disturbing.

“Remember Michels, they are beyond feeling and they are beyond our help.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can hear your heart beating. It’s interfering with my reception. Try to relax.”

It was an impossible request. By human standards, the donors passing before her were physical perfection. It was like watching a parade of sex-droids from Delta Sixty-Niner, an adult entertainment space station, so life-like, but not alive.

“You know, Romanof, some of these male donors are pretty good-looking. Maybe you should consider trading up,” she suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Excuse me?”

“You know. Forget your old body and take one of these. I guarantee you’ll never have a problem with the ladies with one of these.”

“Thank you, but I like my body the way it is," Romanof replied, his tone terse. "And not that it's any of your business, but I don’t have trouble getting women.”

“I just think from an age standpoint, it might be worth it," she continued, amused at his reaction. "You’ve been in the forces a long time, so there’s probably been a lot of wear and tear on your body and...and...”

“Michels! What’s wrong?”

“Noth...nothing,” she breathed.

“Your heart rate has increased and your body temperature is rising. What’s happening?”

How could she tell him that at that very moment, a male donor, unsurpassed in physical perfection, was being escorted across the stage? He was tall, with arms and legs so well-muscled, they stopped just short of bulging. The ends of his dark brown, almost black, hair brushed the top of his broad shoulders. A fine matte of equally brown-black hair spread in an oval across a broad chest that was mouthwatering. Her eyes followed the washboard abs downward. As heat inflamed her face, she looked up, swallowing hard. Never had she seen a man so perfect that it left her feeling dizzy.

"Michels! Pay attention. The signal is coming from directly ahead, close enough you should see my body."

“What?” It took her a moment to realize what he was telling her. "That's you?”

“Tall, dark hair. There's a scar across my left hip."

Angel's eyes jumped to the donor's left hip and saw the raised line of old scar tissue starting at a point high on his hip and running downward toward his...

"Oh my God.” She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the heat rushing to her face. She'd seen naked men before, of course, but this one was...impressive.

This was Romanof? She mused

Then the thought registered. This was Romanof!

Fumbling with the small tablet, she pushed the side button to activate it and then tapped in Romanof's collar number using the small keypad. How much time had she wasted starring at his body, she wondered, disgusted with herself. If she lost this bid because she was daydreaming...

She didn't want to think about it.

As soon as the screen flashed to blue, she saw the numbers scrolling across the screen. Those must be the bids. They were already so much higher than she'd expected.

"Michels, what's our status?"

"Not now," she hissed back, keying in a number significantly higher than the current bids. She wasn't even aware of holding her breath until she saw her bid scroll across the screen. No other numbers followed it as it continued to scroll across the page.

Then a number higher than hers appeared and it was like the flood gates opened to a new, higher level of bidding. New bids appeared, scrolling across the screen so fast, Angel could barely follow them, much less keep pace. She'd known people to purchase small planets and space stations for what was being bid for Romanof's body. It was absurd, really, to spend so much money for one man.

That's when she realized she'd been played. She'd tipped her hand by entering such a large amount too early in the game and now the others were just driving up the price to see how high she'd go.

“What’s your credit limit?” she asked when the current bid jumped to thirty million. "Your body's a hot item."

“Fifty million,” Alex replied tersely. "But I'm sure you can get it for less than that."

Angel decided to cut to the chase and keyed in fifty million credits and hit the button signaling that was her last and final bid. It was far in excess of what any of the previous bodies had sold. Surely it would be enough.

The red light flashed. The bidding was over. Angel held her breath, waiting for the tablet to flash a message indicating she had won. It wasn't until Romanof's body was led from the stage and the tablet remained blank that she felt the cold fingers of dread grab hold of her.

“The bidding must be over," Romanof buzzed in her ear. "The signal is moving away."

"Yeah," she muttered. "It's over."

"Excellent. When you go to finalize the transaction, be sure to tell them you don't want any programming done. Understood?"

"No programming. Got it."

Up on stage, another donor had been brought forward and the bidding resumed. Angel left her seat and walked off to the side, out of the way, to think. Smugglers, traders and white-robed figures milled about, but no one paid attention to her.

“Are you still picking up the tracer signal?” She asked under her breath, an idea forming.

“Vaguely. It’s about nineteen meters south of our current position.”

That would mean the body was still backstage. She exited the fenced area and walked around the perimeter to the back of the building.

“Why?” Romanof asked.

“I’m going to get your body.”

"No. Go pay for it first. You don't want the Harvesters to mistake your intentions," Romanof advised.

"Yeah, about that," she said, slipping around the back of building. "I sort of lost the bid."

She expected him to start yelling, but he didn't. For the longest time, he said nothing and that made her feel worse. She'd asked him to trust her – and she’d failed him.

"Then return to the ship," he finally said. “We’re done here.”

It was like he was giving up.

"No.” She shook her head even though he couldn't see it. "I said I'd get your body and I will."

"You don't understand," he said sharply. "All sales are final. These people are dangerous - and they don't negotiate."

"Which is why I'm going to steal it."

"Absolutely not. What you're suggesting is a suicide mission."

She smiled at his words. "I knew you'd appreciate it."

Chapter 6

Angel waited for Romanof to argue with her, but he remained quiet. It was probably a more effective strategy. In the wake of his silence, she had time to think about what she was planning to do. It was dangerous and - to his point - probably suicidal. And Angel was no hero. She was scared to death and badly wanted to return to the ship. If she told Yanur that she'd given it her best, she knew he'd believe her and they would leave.

Except she hadn't given it her best and Romanof's easy acceptance of his own death had rung a protective chord in her. He was so busy fighting to protect others, she wondered if no one had ever fought to protect him.

Standing in the open lot where several small shuttles were parked, she counted three entrances into the building. She wondered what would happen if she just walked through one and was about to find out when the sound of an approaching shuttle sent her ducking out of sight behind a decontamination unit. As the sound of the engine grew louder, a large ground transport rumbled into the parking area, coming to a stop behind the building.

Angel watched two whited-robed figures climb out of the shuttle and enter the building. Within minutes, a robed figure exited the building steering a bin. Because the face of every robed figure she'd seen was hidden beneath its hood, she couldn't tell if this was one of the two drivers or someone new. It didn't matter.

She watched as he steered the bin to the back of the transport where he pressed a button on the rear panel. Soon, the back doors opened and a ramp lowered to the ground. The robed figure pushed the bin up the ramp and disappeared into the back of the transport. He reappeared moments later, without the bin, and went back into the building.

Unsure what to do, Angel waited. Soon, two robed figures emerged from the building, this time pushing a gurney with a nude female body on top. Angel was close enough to see the metallic collar around the woman's neck indicating she was a donor. The drivers pushed the gurney up the ramp into the back of the transport and then reappeared without it to head back into the building.

A few minutes later, the scene repeated with another gurney and donor. Angel continued to watch as the robed figures loaded the shuttle.

"Status?" Romanof buzzed in her ear.

"I'm outside the building. There's definitely some activity. It looks like they're moving some of the bodies to another location.

“The signal is moving toward us.”

Sure enough, when the robed figures appeared next, the donor on the gurney was the gorgeous Adonis she had bid on earlier. It too disappeared into the back of the transport.

"Damn it. I thought they'd keep your body there until the buyer claimed it. That can't have happened already. Where are they taking you?"

"It doesn't matter. Return to the ship. The mission is over."

"Oh, okay. I'll just leave you behind," she sniped. "Romanof, if the roles were reversed, would you leave me behind?"

"In a heartbeat."

"I guess that makes me a better person than you," she replied.

"Or just more foolish."

Angel opened her mouth to respond, and then promptly shut it when the robed figures stepped from the back of the transport and pressed the rear panel button causing the ramp to lift off the ground and disappear beneath the transport.

She got the sick feeling they were about to drive off. What would she do if they did? Run and jump onto the back of the transport, hoping there was some way to hold on and not be seen?

Watching the Harvesters walk back into the building, she knew she had to act.

Running to the transport, she found the mechanism to open the back doors. They opened easily. Unsure if there would be a way to close them from the inside, she didn't waste time looking for one. Instead, she used the same external mechanism to close them, diving between the doors into the back of the transport before they could fully shut.

"I'm inside the transport," she whispered to Romanof as she looked around. It was more spacious than she'd expected considering the back was filled with four gurneys, each with a nude body lying on top.

She moved between them, trying not to think that each one had once been a living, breathing person. Reaching Romanof's side, she was momentarily distracted. Up close, he was even more impressive than he'd been up on stage. How was it that this man had gone so long without getting married, she wondered? Then it occurred to her that just because it hadn't come up in conversation didn't mean he wasn't.

Angel mentally shook herself. Romanof's marital status was none of her concern. Once this job was over, she'd never see him again.

"I'm going to start the transfer," she told him, her fingers reaching out to lightly touch his shoulder as if he was capable of sensing the comfort or reassurance she was trying to offer. With a quick glance out the back window to make sure the Harvesters weren't returning, she reached into her pocket for the disc.

"Be careful," Romanof hissed in her ear.

"Quiet," she snapped, needing to focus on what she was doing. Yanur had made her recite his instructions over and over until she thought she could recite them in her sleep. At the time, she'd found it irritating, but now was grateful.

Placing the disc on Romanof's forehead, she reached for the ampule hanging from her neck. About to pull it off, she stopped, hearing the sound of voices.

Glancing out the back window, she saw two Harvesters walking toward the shuttle.

"Damn it. They're coming back," she told Romanof.

"Get out of there," he ordered her.

Right. Snatching the disc, she shoved it into her pocket as she looked around. The Harvesters were close enough now that if she tried to escape, they'd surely see her. So she needed to find someplace to hide inside the transport.

Her gaze fell on the large bin in the corner, half concealed by the long white Harvester robes hanging along the back wall of the transport. Looking inside, Angel found the bin full of clothes, but not the same white robes as hanging above it. These were off-planet clothes and she wondered if they belonged to the donors.

She didn't like the idea of hiding under a pile of dead people's clothes, but it wasn't like she had options. Holding the side of the bin, she climbed into it. Burrowing beneath the clothes was easier in concept than in practice, but she managed to get far enough down that with the clothes piled on top of her, she was completely hidden. At least, she hoped she was.

She soon caught the muffled noise of the front transport doors opening and closing. Then she felt the vibrations of the engine as it roared to life.

Angel settled into as comfortable a position as was possible squatting in the bin but all too soon, her leg muscles began to ache. The bin was too small to provide any room to shift her position so there was nothing she could do but grit her teeth and hope the trip ended soon.

After what seemed like forever, she felt the transport rattle to a stop. The engines shut down and in the resulting silence, Angel heard the sound of the transport doors opening.

By now, her legs had grown numb. If the Harvesters discovered her in the bin, she doubted there was anything she could do to defend herself and she hated feeling so helpless.

The back transport doors opened and Angel heard the sound of the Harvesters walking up the ramp. She held her breath, praying they'd unload the bodies first.

She nearly wept with relief when she caught the sound of a gurney being moved out of the transport. She waited until the sound faded before cautiously peeking out.

The drivers were gone. But so was Romanof’s body!

A ramp now extended down from the transport and ran several meters before ending near the entrance to a building, the door to which was in the process of closing, leaving her little doubt as to where the Harvesters had gone.

Damn. It wasn't like she could just walk in after them.

Climbing from the bin, she stuffed the displaced clothing back inside. That's when her gaze fell on the white robes hanging above the bin. Maybe she could walk right in.

A quick glance out the back of the transport told her she was still alone. Taking down a robe, she slipped it on, doing her best not to think about who last wore it, and pulled the hood over her head. The Harvesters' habit of hiding their faces would work to her advantage.

Seeing past the fabric folds hanging in front of her wasn’t as bad as she’d thought and the loose weave of the material allowed her freedom of movement. This idea might work out better than she’d hoped.

“You there,” a man’s voice boomed out, speaking in standard Terran and startling her. "Help me with these bodies."

Angel whirled around to face the robed figure who'd just come through the door and was walking up the ramp toward her. He stopped just outside the transport and she heard him draw a quick breath.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Haun,” he hurried to apologize. “I didn’t know it was you. I'm Tech Dos'tre,” he added, gesturing to the off-white lettering across the front of his robe. Angel assumed there was similar lettering on the robe she was wearing, but didn't want to be obvious and look.

"I'm sorry again," the man continued, obviously misinterpreting her silence as a sign of displeasure. "I thought Central sent someone to help us with the bodies. We're behind schedule and short a man."

Was that opportunity she heard knocking? Think how much time would be saved searching for Romanof’s body if someone led her to it.

“I’ll help,” Angel offered, keeping her voice pitched low. She had no idea if Dr. Haun was male or female.

“No, really doctor. That's not necessary. I'm sure the other man will be here shortly.” The man sounded surprised she would offer.

"I insist," she said, keeping her tone short. "Unless you'd rather we fall further behind schedule."

"No, of course not."

He moved quickly to the nearest gurney, pulling it forward while Angel moved to the other end. Pushing it down the ramp, they went through the door and started down a cold, dark hallway.

Doors lined both sides, but they walked past them, stopping only when they reached the lift at the end. When the doors opened, they wheeled the gurney inside and Angel waited while the tech entered a command on a control panel. If he found her continued silence odd, he gave no indication of it.

Romanof was maintaining radio silence but she knew he was listening to everything going on.

When the lift doors opened on the lower level, she helped push the gurney off and they continued walking down another, equally dark hallway past more closed doors labeled with signs in a language Angel couldn’t read.

At the seventh door, Tech Dos'tre pulled the gurney to a stop.

“In here,” he said, backing into the door so it swung open and pulling the gurney in after him.

Angel nearly tripped over her own feet as she got her first look at the room. It looked like a morgue, filled with rows of donor bodies stretched out on gurneys. Some of them were hooked to IVs, which Angel assumed was how the Harvesters kept the bodies nourished. Countertops running along the side walls displayed various pieces of laboratory equipment. The tech steered the gurney through the door at the far end of the room which took them into another room filled with donors and, to Angel's great relief, Romanof’s body was one of them.

Before she could think what to do about it, the tech had steered their gurney to a spot at the far end of the room. Then he started back to the door, stopping when Angel didn't immediately follow after him.

"Dr. Haun? Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm coming.”

She went reluctantly out into the hallway and back to the lift, the tech walking by her side.

“You’re nothing like I expected,” he said as they rode up the lift. “I’d heard about you.” He laughed and it sounded self-conscious. “Who hasn’t heard about you? You’re the whole reason Operation Rebirth is possible. And here you are helping me unload donors. Who’s going to believe this?”

Who indeed, Angel wondered as she returned to the transport and helped him move another donor body into the building. Certainly not Romanof, who’d finally broken his silence and was setting up a low-level buzz in her ear, telling her to stop “playing around.”

Fortunately, the Harvester didn’t seem to notice the noise. They pushed the second donor along the same path they’d taken the first. About to return once more to the transport for the last body, the door to the room suddenly opened and two robed figures appeared pushing it between them.

“Pieta seems anxious about this group of donors,” one of the men was saying as he backed into the room, pulling the gurney after him. “You know what he’s like when he’s this way.”

“You’d think someone had just told him that he was headed for re-cycle, not re-birth," the other man agreed. Upon noticing Angel and Dos'tre standing there, he paused to stare at them. "Dr. Haun!” He pulled the gurney to a halt. “What are you doing here?”

Unsure how to answer, Angel kept quiet allowing Dos'tre to answer for her.

“Dr. Haun helped me unload the donors.”

“He what?” The first one asked, answering one of Angel's questions. Dr. Haun was male. "Dr. Haun, I must apologize for such an imposition." He turned to the tech. "I will deal with you later."

All three figures turned to her, expecting her to say something. The real Dr. Haun was obviously an important figure. What reason would someone like that have to be down here? “It served my purpose to assist the tech," she replied. "I wished to inspect the new arrivals as soon as possible."

Angel found herself holding her breath, hoping they accepted her explanation. They didn't.

“Let’s not mince words,” the second man said, speaking carefully. “I know why you’re here. I have already explained to Pieta about the mix-up with the tags. I’ve been forced to re-cycle several of my workers and with a shrinking pool to pull from, well, there are going to be mistakes. But I assure you, everything is under control once again and there’s no need for you to trouble yourself. I’m sure you have more important things to attend to. Please don't let us keep you.”

With three of them to one of her, she was not really in a position to argue.

"They're afraid of you," Romanof buzzed in her ear. "Use it to your advantage. Strike them now before they can anticipate it."

"Stop telling me what to do!" She bit out, too distracted by Romanof's incessant buzzing in her ear to realize she'd spoken out loud.

The three Harvesters visibly stiffened as they each took a step back.

Wonderful, Angel thought. Now they knew she wasn't one of them. She started to reach for her laser only to stop when she remembered it was lying in the planter back at the control tower. Hand-to-hand combat, then. Not her forte, but against men in robes - maybe she had a chance.

"My apologies, Dr. Haun," the man who'd just suggested she leave said. Angel could hear a new tension in his tone. "I meant no offense. Of course, you're welcome to stay. I only meant to reassure you that I have everything under control."

She dipped her head in acknowledgement. "I understand you have a job to do - as do I,” she replied. “We’ve already sent more workers than we can afford to re-cycle. It would be a shame to lose another. I'm here to examine the new arrivals but as I'm sure you have someplace you need to be, I won't keep you any longer.”

“Thank you, Dr. Haun,” mumbled the Harvester she’d originally helped as he backed out of the room. There was a muttered “your forgiveness” from the second Harvester as he did the same. Angel smiled at their submissive acceptance of her words, knowing the hood hid her expression. She turned to the remaining Harvester.

“Don’t say anything,” Romanof instructed. “Make him break the silence first.”

Leave it to Romanof to know all the power plays, Angel thought, but she did as he said and waited. It seemed to take forever, but finally the Harvester shrugged.

“Your forgiveness, Dr. Haun. Perhaps I may be of service?”

“I do not require your assistance - but thank you.” She thought he might argue with her, but then she saw his head dip in a nod.

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me, I have a job to finish.” He left the room and Angel relaxed a little.

“Are they gone?” Romanof asked.

“Yes. Should I take your body someplace else to do the transfer?”

“No, it’s too risky. But we’d better wait a minute. Let’s make sure no one comes back to check on you. Walk around and pretend to study the bodies.”

After ten tocks of pretending to study the bodies, she decided no one was coming back to check on her, so now was as good a time as any to start the transfer process.

The room was empty except for the rows of donors and Angel tried not to think about them as she made her way to Romanof's body at the back. She wished there was someplace better hidden where she could do this. Out in the open like this left him so exposed.

Her gaze fell on a nearby body, one of the few covered by a drape. Plucking the drape off the body, she gasped at what she found beneath it.

“What’s wrong?” Romaonf buzzed urgently in her ear.

“No...nothing. Everything’s fine.” The appearance of the donor caught her off guard. A jagged incision running the length of the donor’s torso looked fresh. Blood was still congealing along the stitches.

“Organ donor,” she muttered, realizing what the stitches meant. She walked to another draped body and pulled back the cloth. It was the same. Maybe that was a good thing. She could hide Romanof under a drape. When the Harvesters came to program it, they wouldn't think to look for it under a drape - hopefully.

She looked around for an extra drape, but found none. She'd have to borrow one, but leaving a donor body exposed was sure to be noticed.

"I'm going to cover your body with a drape," she told Romanof. "But you're going to have company under there, okay?"

"Whatever. We're running out of time. Just start the transfer process and get the hell out of here."

“What? No. I’m not leaving you here unprotected.”

“Michels, that wasn’t a request. This room is too busy. We don’t know how long it will take for my life essence to re-assimilate. You can’t just wait here. It’s too risky. Return to the ship. I'll meet you there as soon as I can.”

She had no intention of leaving and by the time he realized she hadn't followed his orders, it would be too late. He would also discover that she wasn’t the boy he thought she was.

“Listen, before we do this, there’s something you should know about me,” she started.

“This is not the time for conversation.”

“I know. It’s just—“

“Later, Michels.”

“Okay, fine.” She took off the robe so she had easier access to her pockets. “I hope this works,” she muttered, removing the transfer disc from her back pocket.

Following Yanur’s instructions, she took the biopod from around her neck and placed it on top of the disc. Some technology, which she didn’t understand, held it there while she centered the whole thing over Romanof’s forehead. Before she pressed the button to start the process, she leaned over to examine the metallic collar still around Romanof’s neck. She looked for a way to remove it and found that it didn’t go all the way around, but just encircled the front half of his throat.

Feeling around the collar with her fingers, she found the outer surface smooth. There seemed to be no obvious locking mechanism or switch. On a whim, she gave it a tug.

It slid off easily in her hand.

Looking at the repulsive device for a moment, she tossed it to the floor.

It was time to start the transfer. Gazing at Romanof’s face, she had an attack of conscience. What if he didn’t survive?

No, he was a survivor and he would make it through this. She couldn't have said how she knew this about him. She just knew it.

She pressed the switch.

At first nothing happened. Then the top of the biopod slowly opened, emitting a slight hissing noise. The pulsating amber light inside the tube began to seep out and gather around Romanof’s body, starting with his head and spreading downward. It reminded Angel of the wispy fog hovering over the ocean’s surface at the cusp of a new day. Romanof’s body lay cocooned in an amber aura for a brief moment, then slowly seemed to absorb the light.

Once it was totally gone, Angel considered the best way to get the “parts” donor onto the same gurney with Romanof. In walking around to study the two bodies from all angles, she noticed a switch at the end of each gurney. When she pressed one, the gurney started to descend. Pressing the other half of the switch caused the gurney to rise.

Maybe moving the body wouldn't be that hard after all.

After raising the nearest donor nearly a meter, she pushed the gurney alongside Romanof’s gurney. Finding a similar switch on Romanof's gurney, she lowered his gurney until he was low enough that she could simply roll the organ donor's body onto Romanof's.

Once she was sure the second body wouldn't fall off, she covered them both with the drape and then adjusted the height to be even with the bodies around them. From across the room, she hoped it would be impossible to tell there were two bodies there.

Then she waited.

The process took a lot longer than she expected and the wait started playing havoc on her nerves. Her mind started imagining all the things that could go wrong, so when she heard the sound of a door opening in the outer room followed by footsteps, she first thought it was her imagination. Then she heard voices.

“I told you there was something wrong.” It sounded like the Harvester who'd asked her to leave. “The real Dr. Haun wouldn’t be down there. If Corporate finds out we have an intruder, don't think I'm going to the Re-cycler alone.”

The voices were drawing closer and Angel knew she was in trouble. Putting on the Harvester robe wasn't going to help her this time.

"The imposter could be hiding anywhere. Be sure to check under every gurney."

Angel looked around for a place to hide but she was surrounded by a room full of lifeless donor bodies - and one empty gurney.

Damn. The minute they saw it, they'd come to investigate. She had to hide it and only one idea came to mind. She began pulling off her clothes, bending close to Romanof’s head as she did. “If you can hear me – lay still. Someone’s coming.”

As soon as she'd shed all her clothes, she wadded them into a bundle with the Harvester's robe and stashed the whole thing under the drape with Romanof. Then she climbed on top of the empty gurney. Feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable, she forced herself to lay flat, just like the other donors in the room.

She shut her eyes when she heard the footsteps getting louder. Straining to catch every noise, she heard the men enter the room and walk down the aisles. So far she’d only heard the two voices. If things got bad, she could take them - maybe.

The footsteps drew closer. Closer. They were so close now.

Please don’t find Romanof. Please don’t find Romanof.

Her silent prayer became her mantra. The footsteps stopped between her and Romanof.

“Hey, take a look at this one,” said a second Harvester whose voice she didn't recognize. “Where's her collar?"

Collar? Then she remembered Romanof’s discarded one.

"Here it is.”

She concentrated on keeping her eyes shut and her breathing regular as cold metal slipped around her neck.

"Wait. Look at that," the first Harvester said.

Angel mentally braced herself to spring into action.

"What?"

"The number on the collar. This one belongs down the hall."

"Are you sure? With that dark hair, she doesn't match the profile."

"You want to help me move the gurney? Or would you rather explain to Dr. Haun why, despite the number on the collar, you thought it should stay here?"

When her gurney started to move, Angel forced herself to stay calm, all the while praying they didn't take her far.

They wheeled her through the outer room and through the doors. She heard a change in the pitch of wheels' vibration as they rolled her down the corridor. More quickly than she'd dared to hope, they paused while a door opened and she was soon pushed inside.

Angel imagined them steering her down one row and then up another before her gurney came to a final stop.

"This will do," the first Harvester said. "Let's go back and make sure none of the others were mis-filed."

Angel waited until the sound of their footsteps faded and even then, counted to ten to be safe.

Her first sense that something was horribly wrong came when she tried to open her eyes - and couldn't. Automatically she tried to raise her hand to her face, only it didn't move. When she tried to push herself into a sitting position, nothing happened.

She was paralyzed!

Her thoughts turned immediately to the collar. It was the only explanation for her condition. She had to get it off, but how?

A cry of frustration welled up in her throat where it lodged because she had no way to release it. She knew if she stayed in this room, she was in serious trouble.

Romanof!

When the transfer finished and he awoke, he would see she was missing and look for her.

Her hopes soared, then plummeted. He wouldn’t look. He’d ordered Michels to return to the ship. And even if he suspected that Michels had run into trouble and went looking for the pilot, he’d be looking for a man, not a woman.

Yanur could tell him the truth, but how soon before Romanof returned to the ship? Even then, there was no guarantee he'd come back for her. Worse yet, what if he ran into trouble and never returned to the ship?

She could be there a long, long time.

She should have been more panicked at the thought, but her mind and body were feeling strangely relaxed, almost numb. She tried to focus on her situation but found it impossible to form a coherent thought. When the darkness rose up to envelop her, she didn't even try to fight it.

Chapter 7

The first tendrils of consciousness for Nicoli were like wisps of fairyfog at early dawn on Beta Four, insubstantial and hard to grasp. As he became more alert, he noticed that his field of awareness was limited once again to his corporeal self and he breathed a sigh of relief. While he had enjoyed the almost omniscient awareness he’d had while interfacing with the ship’s computer, he wholeheartedly welcomed the limitations of his old body.

After the transfer was complete, he continued to lie where he was, eyes closed. Systematically, he flexed and relaxed muscles, satisfied that, despite a sluggishness which he had anticipated, everything seemed to be functioning. At least so far. It was time to rejoin the living.

He opened his eyes and saw...nothing.

He blinked several times, hoping to restore his vision, but to no avail. He felt as if he were lying in the center of a dark, cosmic void - all alone. He closed his eyes and fought the thin thread of fear trying to weave its way into his consciousness. It felt foreign and unwelcome. He struggled to reclaim the cold logic on which he’d built a reputation, a career, a life.

It would seem there were some prices to be paid for the out-of-body time he’d spent. He put himself through a series of mathematical exercises, forcing the emotional side of his brain into submission so he could think logically.

Concentrating, he opened his eyes again. This time, he realized his blindness was more a lack of light, not sight. Relieved, he tried to sit, but his body seemed heavier than he remembered and the weight of it pressed down upon him. He put a hand out to his side to push himself up, but pulled it back sharply when it hit an invisible barrier. When nothing further happened, he tentatively reached out again. This time, when his hand touched the barrier, he pushed at it experimentally. It gave easily.

On his next effort, he tried to grab at the barrier and succeeded in collecting a fistful of a heavy material. Then he realized that he was lying under some type of covering. Still clutching the material, he pulled down with all of his strength and felt the material shift. He released his grip and grabbed a new fistful, higher up, and pulled again. Again, it shifted. He repeated the process until the covering finally slipped to the floor.

Fresh air hit his face and he breathed it in with such welcomed relief that not even the sight of the dead man on top of him could dampen it.

A memory stirred. Just before starting the transfer, Michels had told him he'd have company beneath the drape. It was coming back to him, slowly.

Knowing he couldn't remain where he was, Nicoli began the cumbersome process of working his way out from beneath the body. It took some maneuvering, but he finally broke free and let himself fall to the floor. A wad of clothing landed beside him.

Feeling a bit shaky, he pushed himself to his feet and stood there, letting his mind adjust to the fact that his body was now standing. Feeling more in control, he looked around.

A sea of prone, lifeless bodies surrounded him, but he was alone. He'd half expected Michels to be lurking about and was relieved that the young pilot had actually followed his instructions and returned to the ship.

Bending down to retrieve the drape, his gaze fell on the wad of clothing and discarded boots. After covering the body, he picked up the clothing which turned out to be a Harvester's robe wrapped around a shirt and pair of pants that, in turn, were wrapped around the transfer disc and pod. Nicoli frowned. Obviously, Michels had left these and while he appreciated the gesture, he would have preferred being left clothing that actually fit. Even the boots, he discovered, were too small for his feet.

With a sigh, he stuffed the clothes, with the disc and pod, into the over-sized pocket of the Harvester's robe. The boots he’d have to leave behind.

As he pulled the Harvester robe over his head, he turned his thoughts to his mission. He needed to find the Harvesters’ core of operations. From experience, he knew that no one ran an operation like this without computers. So maybe if he could find the central servers, he could find clues to what made the Harvesters tick and more important, how to bring them down. Nicoli was declaring war on the Harvesters, but it would not be one waged with might. This war would be waged with devious intelligence.

He walked to the doorway and cautiously peeked into the front room. Seeing no one, he continued through, walking past rows of donors to another door. He listened for sounds from the other side, but after hearing nothing, he opened the door and looked out into the hallway beyond. All clear.

He remembered that Michels and the Harvester had taken a lift down to the lower level, which meant that's where he was now. He started down the hallway hoping he was heading toward the lift. About to pass a door on his left, he stopped. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go to the upper levels to find a computer.

Approaching the door, he cautiously opened it only to find it was a storage closet.

He moved to the next door. As soon as he opened it, he was assaulted by the feted, putrid smell of rotting flesh.

Covering his nose and mouth with his hand, he moved into the room, just barely making out the still forms lying atop gurneys. There were four bodies in all and though they still wore collars, these bodies were past controlling. No pulse beat where Nicoli laid his fingertips against first their wrists and then their necks. For a culture that seemed to value cleanliness, as he assumed from Michel’s description of the planet and the number of decontam-units, why would they leave bodies lying around to rot?

Nicoli left the room, taking deep breaths of untainted air after shutting the door behind him. There were two doors left. He opened the first.

It was another donor holding area, much like the one in which he’d awakened. He stepped into the outer room and glanced around. Various pieces of equipment lined the walls, but nothing resembled a computer. The air smelled sterile and clean. The bodies of the donors appeared healthy - and oddly similar.

Acting on a hunch, he raised the eye-lid of the first donor and stared into a violet iris. He continued down the first row, checking the eye color of each blonde-haired donor. Every one of them had the same light-purple eye color. To Nicoli's knowledge, there was only one planet where the dominant race of inhabitants had platinum hair and violet eyes: Coronado.

Why would there be so many?

Pondering the possible reasons, his gaze was drawn to a woman who stood out from the rest. He walked over to her, wanting a closer look.

Her dark hair created a wild halo about her head. She was stunning and the thought caught him by surprise. He had known many beautiful women in his life. That he couldn’t recall a single one of them at this moment had to be due to his recent transfer experience and nothing more.

Delicately carved features were set in a complexion as pure as the finest brushed porcelain. Accenting her closed eyes were dark lashes so long they brushed the tops of her cheeks.

Feeling like a voyeur, his eyes flitted down her form before he could stop himself. Once he started, he couldn't look away. His gaze traveled down the slender column of her throat to the gentle swell of her breasts, each tipped with the same dusky pink of her lips, the same shade as the setting Althusian sun on a warm summer’s night. He felt his body harden at the sight of her and fought to bring himself under control.

Bruises and scratches marred the smooth complexion of her chest. They formed the pattern of a hand, each bruise the imprint of a separate finger, each scrape the width of a nail. At her side was a gash, more serious than the other wounds. Blind rage engulfed him. She had fought for her life and won this living death as her reward.

Nicoli felt the pain of his clenched fists and forced them open. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. It was imperative that he regain control of his emotions before--

“What are you doing in here?”

Silently chastising himself for not being more alert, Nicoli spun around to see a robed figure standing there. He - Nicoli assumed the figure was male from the pitch of his voice - was Nicoli’s height, though stockier, if the width of the robe was any clue. Nicoli saw the downward tilt of the man’s head and knew his bare feet had been spotted.

“I think you’d better come with me.” He grabbed Nicoli’s arm, but Nicoli jerked free.

Angered, the man lunged. Nicoli used the man’s forward momentum to hurl him into the gurneys sending both gurneys and donors crashing to the floor.

The exertion left Nicoli feeling dizzy and he was forced to bend over and wait for the world to right itself inside his head. Unfortunately, the Harvester recovered first. His fist caught Nicoli on the side of the head and sent him stumbling to the side, crashing into gurneys, knocking more bodies to the floor. In their lifeless forms, Nicoli saw his fate if he didn't win this fight.

Energized by that fear, when the Harvester came at him again, Nicoli was ready. It was quickly apparent that the Harvester was not a fighter and his earlier success had been due to luck rather than skill. With each successive punch, Nicoli's body remembered its training. The Harvester was outmatched and Nicoli's next punch knocked him unconscious.

Nicoli, weakened by the effort, nearly followed the Harvester down when he sank to the floor. Instead, he bent over, hands braced against his knees, and tried to recover.

As his breathing quieted and became more regular, Nicoli heard a soft moan. He glanced at the Harvester and waited. Beneath the robe, it was impossible to tell if the man was waking up, but his body hadn't moved.

The moan came again, but further off to the side. Nicoli tracked it to one of the fallen donor bodies.

That's impossible.

It came again, a little louder this time, drawing Nicoli's attention to the dark-haired beauty he'd admired before.

Nicoli knelt over her, logic telling him the noise couldn’t possibly be coming from her, and rolled her gently onto her back. As he did so, the metal collar, which had already been dislodged, came completely off. Almost immediately, her eyes fluttered open.

Stunned, Nicoli couldn't move. He had no idea what to expect. The Harvesters had cleansed her mind, so the eyes opening was nothing more than an involuntary muscle reaction - right? This was nothing more than a living, breathing shell devoid of any intelligence or self-awareness. This was "lights on but no one's manning the space station."

Leave her. You have a mission to perform with thousands of lives hanging in the balance.

Yet, he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from those violet eyes staring up at him. They sparkled like twin Althusian gemstones, going from rich purple to icy blue depending on the light. Then, to his utter amazement, her gaze focused on him.

At first, he thought he'd imagined it. The lighting in the lab only made it appear as if she was becoming aware. He almost had himself convinced when her eyes grew wide in obvious fear - of him.

"It's okay, you're sa--"

The heel of her hand shot up, hitting him in the nose and ending any attempt to soothe her.

Chapter 8

Caught by surprise, Nicoli fell back, his eyes watering from the sting of pain. He watched with almost a detached curiosity as the woman scrambled clumsily to her feet. She whirled around and started running away from him only to stumble into the row of donors blocking her escape.

Giving a small cry of alarm, she whirled around and raced down the open aisle and through the door at the back of the room.

Still blinking away the tears, Nicoli raised a hand to cradle his injured nose and was surprised to touch fabric instead of skin. He’d forgotten he was wearing the robe. No wonder she'd run from him.

From the back room came the sound of furniture or equipment crashing to the floor. Damn. If he didn’t stop her soon, she’d have every Harvester in the building coming after them.

With a heartfelt groan, he pushed to his feet and headed for the back room, pulling the hood off his face as he went. He'd just reached the open doorway when a pale blur barreled into him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place against his chest as much to keep them both from falling backwards as to keep her from running away again. He didn't want to bruise the delicate skin he touched, but her struggling made it nearly impossible to use a gentle touch.

"Let me go, you cold-blooded murderer," she yelled, twisting violently in his arms.

“Quiet!" He hissed. "Do you want every Harvester in the building to hear you?”

The woman managed to get an arm free and started beating at his face and shoulders. He fended off her attacks as best he could with one arm, much too aware of the nude body he held close to his own.

“I won’t let you take me.” She lifted her leg to knee him in the groin. He saw it coming, but not in time to dodge the blow altogether.

“Mother-oumpf. ” He swallowed the words, feeling his control snap. This was no vacuous shell of a person fighting in his arms.

Placing his free arm against her throat, he forced her backwards until he had her pinned to the wall. He pressed, cutting off her air, until she ceased her struggles and stared up at him, eyes round with fear, but still defiant. With each labored breath she took, her breasts pressed into his chest, distracting him.

“I’m not a Harvester,” he growled. “But if you want to see one, keep up this racket and the whole damn room will be full of them. Is that what you want?”’ He eased up on the pressure at her throat slightly. “I can’t hear you.”

“N...no,” she croaked.

“I didn’t think so. Now, are you going to shut up or," he increased the pressure at her throat again, “am I going to have to find another way to silence you?”

She shot him a lethal look, but remained quiet. He slowly took his arm away from her throat but he wasn't about to release her, not until he was sure she wouldn't run.

They stood in silence, sizing up one another.

"If you're not a Harvester, then who are you?" She finally asked.

"Donor. Same as you. Right now, we're in a donor holding room.”

“How did I get here?”

“I assume the Harvesters brought you? Do you remember being taken?"

Her look turned inward, as if she were chasing a memory. Then she frowned and shook her head. “No.”

He wasn't surprised. If the Harvesters' attempts to cleanse her mind hadn't destroyed the memory, then the shock of the experience itself had probably been so traumatic that her mind was blocking it. He was struggling with how to reassure her without adding to her alarm when her expression changed to one of shock.

“Where are my clothes?” She demanded, giving him a shove hard enough to let her go.

“I don’t know. This is how I found you.”

Crossing her arms to cover herself, she made some reply, but he’d stopped listening. He thought he'd heard a sound coming from the hallway. Placing a hand over her mouth, he raised a finger to his lips, gesturing her to silence. When she nodded that she understood, he took her arm and led her back into the room she'd just come from.

The sound of the door to the outer room opening had Nicoli moving them off to the side, up against the wall, out of sight.

“Harvesters,” he whispered. As the footsteps grew louder, he played out possible scenarios in his mind, calculating how long it would take to reach the door should a Harvester step through and what he might use as a weapon. There were so many factors beyond his control - including the woman. He prayed she wouldn’t panic.

As the Harvester moved around, Nicoli tried to judge his position from the sound of his footsteps. There was an exclamation when the overturned gurneys and fallen donor bodies were found. This was quickly followed by the sound of footsteps hurrying up and down aisles. Nicoli assumed the Harvester was checking the room for additional signs of disturbance. What would happen when he found the unconscious Harvester who was lying much too close to the room in which Nicoli and the woman currently hid?

Nicoli looked around hoping for a better hiding place only to realize there was none. This was a work area, with countertops and small cabinets lining the walls and an open workbench down the center. Various pieces of equipment lay scattered or broken on the floor, which explained the sounds he'd heard when the woman had run into the room earlier. He made a mental note to ask her if she was hurt, but just then, the sound of the footsteps grew louder.

Nicoli pushed the woman behind him, ready to face the danger head on and shield her as best he could. Not that he relished the idea of another fight. He was still feeling the aches and pains of the last one.

There was, of course, a slim chance they wouldn't be noticed. Hoping to avoid a fight completely, Nicoli reached back and, placing his hand on the woman’s hip, applied gentle pressure. Together, they stepped to the side until they were neatly wedged behind the open door. Even with his full attention on the Harvester's movements in the outer room, it was impossible not to notice the smooth feel of the woman's skin or the quick hitch of her breath at his touch.

Realistically, their position was scant protection should they be discovered, but it was the best he could come up with. At least he would have the element of surprise on his side should it be needed.

The seconds dragged by as they waited. Of its own traitorous accord, his mind drifted to thoughts of long shapely legs topped by curvaceous hips. The woman was tall and pressed together as they were, he couldn’t help but think how perfectly she fit against him. Her breasts rubbing against his back with each breath she took had become a tortuous test of his control.

The sudden scuff of a shoe on the other side of the door caught his attention. He couldn’t see the Harvester, but imagined him standing in the open doorway, looking in. The door inched toward them and Nicoli pressed back further against the woman, sucking in his breath to allow the door more room to move freely.

When the Harvester took that next step into the room, Nicoli shoved the door as hard as he could into the man. The impact wasn't enough to knock him out, but it was enough to startle him, giving Nicoli the few seconds he needed to step out from behind the door and punch the man in the stomach.

Doubled-over with pain, the Harvester stumbled to the side and fell against the countertop where his hand fell across a slender pipe.

Damn it. Why hadn't he noticed a pipe when he was searching the room for weapons?

Nicoli suspected the answer had something to do with the naked woman in the room, but the Harvester gave him no time for further self-recrimination.

Swinging the pipe before him and moving surprisingly fast, the Harvester advanced, forcing Nicoli back with each step. On the third swipe, Nicoli didn’t move fast enough and the pipe smashed against his lower arm. Reacting to the pain, Nicoli bent over, pulling his injured arm close to his stomach. The Harvester, thinking Nicoli seriously injured, changed tactics. He raised the pipe to bring it crashing down on Nicoli’s head and that was his mistake.

While the man’s arms were raised, Nicoli punched him - as hard as he could - in the stomach. The sound of the Harvester's breath rushing out as he doubled over was almost as gratifying as watching the man drop the pipe. Nicoli didn't give him a chance to recover before moving in to grab the man's head and giving it a harsh twist.

There was a sickening snap and when Nicoli released the man, he fell limply to the floor where he remained motionless.

“Is he dead?” The woman’s quiet question echoed in the sudden silence of the room.

“I sure as hell hope so.” Then it occurred to Nicoli that she might be upset, so he forgot about the corpse at his feet and went to her.

It was a mistake. As soon as he stood before her, his mind remembered the feel of her pressed against him. His gaze wandered hungrily over her until he reached her eyes, opened wide like trapped prey beneath a predator's stare. His fault, he knew. He'd been out-of-body so long he could no longer control his baser reactions.

Nervously, it seemed, she wet her lips and it was his undoing. He couldn't pull his gaze from the rose-red invitation of those lips and felt as if he were falling. Before he knew what he intended to do, his hands came up to gently cup her face as he slowly lowered his head.

“Please,” she whispered.

Confused, he paused. Please continue or please stop?

Belatedly, he remembered how bruised she was and felt guilty. He was proving to be no better than the animals who had attacked her before.

Cursing, he stepped back, running his hand through his hair to keep from touching her again. “You're right. Bad idea. You should probably get dressed.”

“In what?”

He returned to the corpse and with efficient movements, removed the robe, revealing the body beneath.

The image was shocking.

The man’s face was horribly scarred and made up of a patchwork of skin grafts in various skin tones and textures. If all the robed Harvesters looked like this, it was little wonder why they covered themselves.

Trying to shake off the image, Nicoli stood and handed the woman the robe.

"You don't expect me to wear that, do you?” She looked horrified at the idea and he couldn't blame her.

“Well," he said thoughtfully. "There is another option. You could lay down on one of those gurneys and let me push you through the halls. No one would suspect a thing. It's the perfect cover for my mission - which, by the way, is extremely important.”

"You can't be serious!” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "What mission?"

"It's classified. I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you.” He winked at her and then couldn't believe he'd done it. When was the last time he'd teased a woman? This was certainly not the place or time.

"Screw you. I'll wear the robe.” She held out her hand to take it but the look on her face as she was about to lift the robe over her head was pathetic, making him wish he really could offer her another clothing option.

Suddenly he remembered the bundle of clothes stuffed into the pocket of his robe. "Wait a second.” Digging them out, he handed them to her. "See if these fit."

She glowered at him as she jerked them from his hands.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "I forgot I had them."

"Turn around."

It was his turn to stare at her in surprise. "Standing naked in front of me doesn't bother you but getting dressed does? Seriously?” Still she didn't move. “Fine, I’ll step into the outer room, but hurry.”

He left her to go check on the unconscious Harvester. The man hadn’t moved so Nicoli conducted a thorough search of the man's robe pockets, but came away with nothing.

“Is he dead?”

Nicoli hadn't heard her walk up. “No. Not yet.” He turned to look at her. She was wearing the robe and since he didn’t see her holding the clothes he’d offered her, he assumed she had those on beneath it.

“The clothes fit okay?” He tried to sound normal.

“Yes, thank you, um....”

"Nicoli,” he provided for her. “Nicoli Romanof. And you are...?"

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead, a strange expression crossed her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, when it seemed she was on the verge of panic.

“I can’t remember my name!"

Chapter 9

Nicoli reached out, gently grasping her upper arms to give her a reassuring squeeze as frightened eyes stared up at him. This woman, who had awakened to find herself naked, surrounded by what would seem like hundreds of corpses and a strange man leaning over her, had not hesitated to smash him in the nose and fight for her life. Yet the challenge of memory loss seemed more than she could bear and Nicoli found himself feeling oddly protective of her.

“I’m sure it’s temporary. The effects of the collar, the whole experience. That kind of thing. Your memory will come back,” he assured her.

"Do you think so?"

"Of course," he answered with conviction, remembering his own initial experience upon first awakening, which had been unsettling, to say the least. "Until it does, though, you need a name.” He gave it only a moment’s consideration. “I’ll call you Kiera.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, looking distrustful.

“It means ‘heart of a warrior’,” he told her with a smile, rubbing his jaw where she’d hit him earlier. “It seems fitting under the circumstances.”

She offered a slight smile in return.

“Are you ready to get out of here, Kiera?"

After she nodded, he released her arms and walked back to the prone body of the Harvester. After a moment’s thought, he bent over and grabbed the man’s ankles.

“Wait here,” he ordered as he dragged the body into the back room. He knew he couldn’t leave the second man to report their presence, but he didn’t want to subject the woman to anymore ugliness than she’d already seen. With a small niggling doubt as to his own humanity, he dragged the Harvester to the far corner of the back room and broke his neck.

Then he dragged the first body over to join it. About to walk away, his gaze fell on their boots. He and the woman couldn't walk around barefooted without drawing attention, so helping himself to both pairs, he carried them into the front room and held out the smaller pair to the woman.

“Put these on.”

Though she wrinkled her nose in disgust, she took them and after the barest hint of hesitation, bent over to pull them on.

"They fit," she announced holding the hem of her robe up to show him.

Nicoli thought "fit" was being too generous. The boots swallowed her small feet. "Can you walk?” If they had to run for their lives, he wanted to know that she could do it.

As he watched, she took several shuffling steps. His expression must have projected his concern because when she came back to stand in front of him, she gracefully stepped to one side, raising her knees high with each step, and just like that, she was out of the boots and barefoot again.

"Okay," he agreed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does--"

"I'll lose the boots and run like hell," she finished for him. "Got it. What now?"

By now, Michels and Yanur must be wondering where he was. The sooner he completed his mission, the sooner they could all leave the planet. As he tried on the larger of the two pairs of boots, he briefly considered sending Kiera out on her own to find his ship, but discarded the idea as too risky. He would keep her with him and hope he could protect her.

"Let's go.” He crossed the room to the door and after listening for sounds coming from the hallway and hearing none, he opened the door a crack and peeked out. The hallway was empty.

"Where are we going?" Kiera had come to stand behind him.

"To find their main computer."

"Are you crazy? We'll get caught. We need to find a way out of this place."

Nicoli eased the door closed before the sound of their voices could attract attention. "We will leave," he assured her. "Right after we find the main computer."

She crossed her arms and shook her head. "No. I'm not going with you."

"Look, I don't have time to argue about this."

"Maybe I have my own mission to complete," she challenged. "Had you thought of that?"

“Right," he said with exaggerated patience. "Must have been a covert operation then. I especially like the part where you laid naked and unconscious? A real double-threat. Very impressive. I don't think the Harvesters realized what danger they were in.” He didn't bother to hide his sarcasm. “You want to be someone's sex slave?” He let his hungry gaze travel over her. “I’m sure we can work out an arrangement to our mutual satisfaction. Until then," he grabbed her arm, jerking her close and speaking through gritted teeth, "you stay with me and do as I say. Understand? And if we get out of here alive, I'll not only help you figure out who you are - I'll take you home."

A healthy dose of fear under the circumstances wouldn't have been a bad thing but while her eyes had opened wider in surprise, he didn't think he'd frightened her nearly as much as he'd hoped. Still, he didn't release her until she'd nodded her agreement.

"Good. I'm glad we understand one another." He leaned close to the door again and, hearing nothing, opened it. The hallway was still clear.

With Nicoli taking the lead, they stepped out, closing the door behind them. At the end of the hall, Nicoli located the lift and they took it up one flight.

The doors opened onto another long hallway with a door at the end. Nicoli supposed this was the way he’d been brought into the building. Without getting out of the lift, Nicoli let the doors close and punched the button to take them up to the next level.

This time when the doors opened, they were looking into a grand foyer filled with robed Harvesters. Some stood around talking while others merely crossed the foyer on their way to other destinations. Nicoli grabbed Kiera’s arm and escorted her off. No one paid them any attention. With the robes on they looked like everyone else. It was the perfect disguise – until someone engaged them in conversation.

“Now what?” Keira whispered.

Nicoli looked around. From this perspective, the building seemed to be shaped like a wagon wheel with this foyer as the central hub and hallways radiating off of it like spokes. Before he left the building, Nicoli was determined to explore every one of them.

“Let’s see what’s down here.”

He crossed the short distance to the nearest hallway. It seemed heavily populated, but no one stopped them as they started down it.

Reaching the end without incident, they stepped through the only door and stopped abruptly. Stretching out for what seemed like kilometers were rows upon rows of plants.

“Food," Kiera said, having drawn the same conclusion he had.

"Probably.” He stepped up to the nearest plant and grabbed a handful of soil. “But they’re not planted in dirt. I don’t know what this is, but it's synthetic."

Kiera looked around. “They seem to be thriving."

"Yes, interesting. Wait here.” He started down one row, not sure what he was looking for. After several steps, he heard a light hissing noise coming from further inside the room. He followed the sound until he stepped into a cool mist.

Not everywhere, of course. Just in this one section. Looking up, Nicoli saw the source of the water; it was the pipes running along the ceiling. He visually traced them to their point of origin – a large metal regulator lodged in the wall. One of the lights on the front was lit.

Even as Nicoli studied it, the light went out and the mist stopped. A second light came on and Nicoli heard the mist come on in another section of the room.

“Computer operated climate control,” Nicoli remarked with satisfaction. He hurried back to the door where Kiera waited. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

Instead of answering, he opened the door and went through, assuming, correctly, that she'd follow after him.

They continued to explore the building, Nicoli worrying the entire time that at any second, their luck would run out and someone would stop to question them.

The time seemed to drag as they searched for the main computer and at times, Nicoli found his mind drifting to images of his companion, as she’d been when he first found her. It was very distracting and certainly the last thing he needed at this juncture in the mission.

“Well?”

Nicoli ignored her question. It was the fifth time she’d tried to get him to tell her where they were going - and the fifth time he'd ignored her.

He opened the door to the next room in their search and looked inside. It appeared to be some type of waiting room, filled with unoccupied chairs.

It wasn't that Nicoli wanted to encounter Harvesters but he was suspicious of how few they’d actually seen during their search. The Harvesters couldn’t have survived so many centuries being careless or lucky, which meant they were clever. And clever was not a good trait to have in one’s enemy.

“Well?” Kiera asked, clearly tired of their continued searching.

“Maybe.” He stepped into the room and gestured for her to follow. Across the room was a second door and Nicoli went to it. Not hearing any noise from the other side, he opened it and went inside.

This looked like a medical exam room. In the center of the room was an exam table with cabinets of equipment and supplies lining one wall. On the adjacent wall was a desk and there, on top of the desk, sat a holographic image generator that could only belong to a computer.

Finally.

“Watch through the door and let me know if anyone comes in.” He waited for her nod before moving to sit at the desk. It took a few tries to bring up the screen and keyboard and then a few more to actually get into the operating system, but he managed.

Just like every other planet in the system, the Harvesters couldn’t function without a connection to the universal web and he needed to tap into it. Unfortunately, getting past their security was proving to be an unexpected challenge.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” Kiera muttered a few minutes later. “I could’ve downloaded the entire USP Intergalactic Trade Agreement by now.”

He cursed her under his breath as he tapped his fingers in the air, trying a different series of code. The computer was similar to the virtual-com he used back on Althusia, but just different enough that it wasn't accepting his commands. “You know about the IGTA?”

There was silence as she thought about it. “I guess I do,” she finally said. “Maybe my memory's finally coming back.”

“Wonderful," he replied dryly. “What I need now is less talk and more surveillance. I don't want any surprises."

“Do you think you could hurry, though?” She sounded exasperated. “I can feel myself growing old.”

“It may interest you to know that it’s not as easy as it looks.” He bit out the words, feeling his temper rise.

“Are you sure you're doing it right?”

That was it. His temper sparked and he gestured for her to take his place. “Perhaps you think you can do better?"

She met his challenging gaze with one of defiance as she stepped past him to stand before the computer. She took a moment to study the holographic keyboard image and then ran her fingers across it causing the screen image to flicker and blur.

“What are you doing?” He grabbed her hand before she could do anymore damage.

“It can’t be any worse than that gibberish you’re keying in.”

She was maddening. "Do something like that again and I'll leave you here."

"You wouldn't."

He mustered up his most insincere smile. "Try me. I'll leave you here so fast --"

The flash of light across the computer's screen image caught his attention and he forgot what he was about to say. Instead, his full attention was now focused on the computer.

Of course. Why hadn't he thought of this? With her nonsensical commands, Kiera had overloaded the computer and forced it into an automatic reboot. If he could interrupt that routine long enough to introduce the virus, maybe he had a chance of completing this mission after all.

He watched the image disappear and knew that when the computer started back up, there would be a very narrow window of opportunity. He'd only have one chance to enter the right commands.

At the first blink of light signaling the reboot had begun, he started typing. To her credit, Kiera stood quietly by his side, watching him work.

He entered his last command and the image blinked out again.

"Did it work?” She practically whispered the words as if afraid to speak any louder.

"I don't know," he admitted.

They fell silent and watched the area where the screen image would appear. They waited so long that Nicoli was on the verge of calling it a failed attempt when a single icon flashed into existence and hung there.

It was the Harvesters' global web icon.

"We're in.” Almost giddy with relief, he grabbed Kiera's face between his hands and kissed her. It was only supposed to be a quick, congratulatory peck but the minute his lips touched hers, his original intentions were forgotten.

Her lips were soft and supple against his and he drank her in, lost in the taste of her. The sound of her soft moan drove him crazy. All he wanted to do was sink himself deep into her and forget all about Harvesters and missions.

Grabbing her by the upper arms, he gently eased her away, brushing his lips across hers once more to ease the sudden transition.

"God, you taste good. You don't know how much I don't want to stop but—“ he cleared his throat, “not the place and time."

She blinked as if trying to clear her head. "No, of course.”

He would have liked to study her expression a little longer to know what thoughts raced through her head, but she pulled the hood down to hide her expression "I should go watch the door and let you work."

She was right. He watched her leave and reluctantly turned back to his work. Now that he had accessed their global web, inserting his own code was easy enough.

"Done," he announced five minutes later. "Now we wait for it to finish running and then we can shut it down, with no one even knowing we were here."

"What's it doing?" She asked, stepping away from the door she'd been guarding.

"It's setting up a series of off-planet data relays that will systematically copy all their files. My ship’s computer will then access the data and analyze it.”

Once he'd learned their strengths and weaknesses, he'd destroy the entire race.

“Hello? Brother Nathzur? Are you there?” A voice called from the outer waiting room, catching them by surprise.

Their time had run out.

Before Nicoli could devise a plan of attack, Kiera pushed through the door, intercepting the man before he could come into the back room. Nicoli started to race after her, intent on protecting her, but stopped as he reached the door.

“Ah, there you are," Nicoli heard the man say. Through the crack in the door, he watched the man approach her.

“Time is running out,” the man said. “We must hurry before it is too late. Is everything ready?” He started for the back room but then stopped beside Kiera, giving her robe a gentle tug.

"Nathzur," he said in a playful, reproachful tone. "I know why I wear these disgusting things, but why are you still wearing one? Did the rejuvenation go poorly yesterday?"

Nicoli saw Kiera shake her head "no", which seemed what the Harvester expected.

"Good. I want you to come with me, in whatever capacity you choose.” He sighed. “It’s so exciting. A new beginning - a new life. I can hardly wait.” He glanced at a clock on the wall and Nicoli could barely make out the numbers. They were moving backwards.

"Now, let me see the body you've chose for me."

Pulling the robe over his head, Nicoli tossed it into the corner. His boots quickly followed. He barely had time to lie down on the gurney and close his eyes before the door opened and Kiera and the Harvester stepped into the room.

“Nathzur.” The Harvester's voice held a note of awe. “He is spectacular.”

Nicoli felt a gloved finger-tip touch the top of his shoulder before trailing down along his arm. When the Harvester ran out of arm, he moved his inspection to Nicoli's hip and continued down the length of his leg.

Nicoli was not a squeamish man, but still it took everything in him to tolerate the man's touch.

“Thank you for this fine gift - but what of you? Are you satisfied with your choice?"

Nicoli heard the man take a step and then heard Kiera gasp. Concerned for her safety, he opened his eyes just in time to see the Harvester pull the hood from her head.

Only the subtle shake of her head as her gaze briefly caught his kept him on the table instead of attacking the Harvester.

“It’s okay,” she said, perhaps realizing Nicoli's internal struggle.

The Harvester, of course, thought she was talking to him.

“Okay? Nathzur, by Ha’lah, your new body is better than okay. You are lovely.” His head fell forward slightly as he shook it. "You shame me by making the ultimate sacrifice." He reached for her hand with his gloved one. "Some of us, I know, had to become female. But I never thought you would volunteer. You did this for me? For us?”

She nodded.

“You've made me very happy my old friend. Our time at Rebirth should be fruitful indeed.” He clapped his hands together once. “Let’s get started.”

Nicoli snapped his eyes closed just as the Harvester turned. He heard the sound of the man's footsteps walk to the far end of the lab where they stopped. Then came the sound of another gurney being rolled into place beside Nicoli.

“I can no longer tolerate being in this useless body that can’t even respond properly to the sight of a desirable woman. Get what you need for the procedure while I ready myself."

Nicoli heard the tentative steps of Kiera as she walked across the room and made a show of rifling through the various drawers and hoped she found something there that could be used as a weapon.

“Nathzur, are you sure these bodies are Coronadian? With their dark hair, they don't match the profile.”

“What?” Kiera asked, pausing in her search. "Coronado. Yes, of course." It was spoken softly, with a note of awe.

The Harvester sighed. “Good. Brother Joh'nan was most specific that we only use the bodies taken from Coronado. Shall we get started, then? I'll just--”

“What is going on here?”

At the sound of the newcomer's voice, Nicoli automatically cracked open an eyelid to see a robed figure standing in the doorway. His hood was pushed back and the eyes looking out of the marred face stared accusingly first at the other Harvester and then at Kiera.

“Brenneth, will you explain to me what you are doing in my lab with this...this...”

“Nathzur? But I thought...” Brenneth's voice trailed off as he stepped away from Kiera and the gurney. He'd removed his hood and his gaze shifted back and forth between the Nathzur and Kiera in obvious confusion.

Knowing the situation was only going to get worse, Nicoli jumped off the gurney. Both Harvesters stumbled back, startled and staring at him in horror.

Nicoli gave them no time to recover before rushing the larger of the two men. Nathzur stood frozen in place, staring wide-eyed as Nicoli’s fist slammed into Brenneth's face with the sickening smack of flesh and bone hitting flesh and bone. The man’s eyes rolled up into his head as his body slowly collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

At the sight of his fallen friend, Nathzur started screaming.

"Quiet, or you're next," Nicoli growled, rounding on him.

The man fell abruptly silent, a quiet desperation reflected in his gaze which darted first to Nicoli and then to Kiera, and back again.

“Now what?” She asked, coming to stand beside Nicoli.

“Now? We kill them.”

Nathzur’s eyes grew round and a sound escaped his mouth just before he sank to the floor in a faint.

She looked down on the unmoving figure. “That was effective. But seriously, now what do we do?”

“We kill them.” Nicoli’s tone was cold and hard.

“You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“That's not what I mean. I know you can physically, but it's not right.”

He stared at her in shock. "Have you forgotten the rooms downstairs? I found you in one of those rooms. These men are part of a race that goes from planet to planet kidnapping and killing hundreds of people and I guarantee you they didn't give a moment's thought to the morality of it. As far as I'm concerned, they don’t deserve to live.”

“You have no respect for life.”

“Of course I do. Just not theirs. I say, let the punishment fit the crime.”

Nicoli's glare met her pleading gaze. Everything in him told him he was right, so why did he hesitate? Disgusted with his own reaction, he stepped forward planning to carry out his plan only to have Kiera block his way.

“I won't let you,” she warned him, raising hands clinched into fists like she intended to fight him.

In a move too fast for her to anticipate, he lifted her off the floor and set her aside. “I don’t fight women,” he growled.

It was obvious that she could never best him in a test of wills or force, but she had other weapons in her arsenal that were far more effective and she must have realized it because she moved in front of him again, but this time, pressed her hands flat against his chest and tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

"Please. For me. Don't do this."

Nicoli felt himself falling into the deep violet pools of her gaze and knew he was lost. Swearing under his breath, he managed to tear his gaze from hers. “This is a mistake.”

Stepping away from her, he missed the warmth of her touch immediately and would have given anything for a quiet moment devoid of danger to pull her into his arms and find out if his touch had the same dizzying effect on her as hers had on him.

But they didn't have that moment - and they wouldn't if they didn't leave soon. While Yanur might ignore his orders to leave the planet if he took too long returning to the ship, he doubted the young Michels would suffer the same pangs of leaving a close friend behind to certain death.

Grabbing Nuzthur’s still unconscious form by the ankles, he dragged it to the center of the room to lie beside Brenneth's.

“Help me get their robes off. We'll tear them into strips and use them to bind them. I don’t want them getting loose.”

A few minutes later, they stood looking down at the two unconscious aliens. The nude bodies of the Harvesters revealed that the patchwork skin grafting was not limited to just their faces. The robes had hidden other deformities as well – muscle atrophy in some places, abnormal swelling in others. There even seemed to be a skin rash, but Nicoli couldn't be sure and he wasn't about to get any closer in case it was contagious.

He gagged each man using the remaining pieces of robe and then dragged each one to the closet, safely concealing them behind the closed door.

By now, the computer's holographic image had disappeared. Nicoli hoped that meant his program had finished running. If it worked, then all of the Harvesters' data from their main database was being uploaded to an off-planet server, where Yanur and others could safely search it.

The entire process should only take seconds and once the data transfer was complete, a red-skull icon would appear.

"Shouldn't we go now?" Kiera asked, though for some reason, she wouldn’t look at him.

"Can't. Not yet.” Nicoli stared into space, willing the red skull to appear, feeling the passage of time like a heavy weight pressing him down.

When the red skull suddenly appeared, Nicoli let out a sigh. Entering a quick sequence of numbers, he activated the Holocaust virus which would work its way through the Harvesters' entire network and wipe it out. Once activated, there was no way to stop it.

“Okay,” he said. “Now we can go. In forty-eight hours, the entire system is going to crash and I want to be off this planet before that happens.”

He started for the door, stopping when he noticed she wasn't following. "What's the matter?"

"Forgetting something?" With her gaze still averted, she held out his robe and boots. "You might want to put these on."

Smiling to himself, he dressed quickly, remembering to pull the hood over his head. "Better?"

“That’s a matter of opinion,” he thought he heard her murmur, but she’d pulled her own hood over her head and he couldn’t be certain.

Finding an exit was easier than he expected and once again, the thought that everything was going much too smoothly, struck him.

He pushed the worry aside and focused on finding a form of transportation they could take back to the landing field. Exiting the building, he was please to find they were in a parking lot. Five hover-shuttles stood waiting.

“Shall we?” Nicoli asked, gesturing to one.

“Do you know how to fly one of these?”

“Of course.” He walked over to the first and found it locked. He tried the second and third with the same result. The hatch of the fourth shuttle, however, opened easily.

They wasted no time climbing aboard with Nicoli taking the pilot’s seat.

“Ready?” He studied the controls for a moment and then turned to make sure Kiera was securely strapped in beside him. Satisfied, he looked for a way to engage the engines. Most modern societies used electronic scanners and ID tags, but he hadn't found any tags in the Harvester robes and a thorough look at the console revealed no scanner on the panel. There were plenty of lighted buttons though.

"This might take a minute," he said, trying to figure out what the symbols on the buttons meant.

Before he could stop her, Kiera reached out and pressed a series of buttons. "Whoa - are you crazy? You don't know what--"

The sound of the engines roaring to life cut off his words and he stared at her, impressed despite himself.

She smiled. "Seemed like the thing to do."

She was full of mysteries and he realized he was looking forward to unraveling them.

Nicoli flipped the lever to raise the craft off the ground. As it did, the locks on the outer hatch doors automatically engaged, causing the two of them to exchange questioning looks. Without having to be asked, she walked back to the doors and tried to unlock them.

“It’s no use,” she said, coming back to sit next to him. “They won’t budge.”

Then the shuttle started moving. Using the steering column, Nicoli steered toward the airfield where the Icarus waited. The shuttle's response was sluggish and when it did finally change course, it was not toward the airfield.

Nicoli tried to alter its direction but nothing he did had any effect. He didn't have to tell her they were in trouble, trapped in a vehicle that was taking them to an unknown destination; she'd been watching.

"Now what?" she asked as the shuttle picked up speed.

"Now we go for a ride."

Chapter 10

“Welcome to Rebirth. My name is Tomas and I’ll be your Acclimation Guide.”

The young man standing outside the newly landed shuttle smiled up at Nicoli and Kiera who were staring at him out the side viewport. He looked to be in his early twenties, with a clear, smooth complexion Nicoli had yet to see on any Harvester and his sparsely clothed body boasted excellent health and a superior physique. Beneath the sun’s rays, the man’s blond hair shone like a halo about his head which, in turn, caused his violet-colored eyes to sparkle like two gemstones. Nicoli couldn't help but notice their color was the same as Kiera's the same color as all the eyes of the donors who'd been in that room It was further proof that Nicoli's suspicion was valid.

Yanur may have discovered how to extract a person's life essence from its body, but the Harvesters had learned how to transfer that life essence into a different body altogether.

Nicoli had arrived at this conclusion in the last two hours. Trapped in the shuttle, all attempts to alter or terminate their course having failed, there'd been little else to do but think. That's when the conversation back at the lab had replayed itself in his head and he'd realized what the Harvesters were doing. He'd kept his suspicions to himself, though. Kiera already had enough to worry about.

She'd spent the majority of the flight staring out the front viewport. Not that there had been much to see once they'd flown away from the city. Just vast stretches of barren ground, until they'd arrived at this remote encampment.

When the shuttle began its descent, Nicoli and Kiera had pulled their hoods over their heads and helplessly waited while the shuttle approached the small airfield and landed. The locks had automatically disengaged when the engines shut down, but upon seeing the welcoming party waiting for them, neither Nicoli nor Kiera had made an effort to leave the ship.

Now seeing Tomas move toward the hatch with the clear intent of opening it, Nicoli rose from his seat and moved to put himself between the opening door and Kiera.

“Please feel safe, Brothers,” Tomas said, upon seeing Nicoli's defensive stance. "You are among friends." He smiled again and gestured toward their robes. "We will find you more suitable clothing shortly, but please, remove your hoods. We have no need to cover our faces here."

With only a slight hesitation, Nicoli uncovered his head and then nodded for Kiera to follow suit. For a long moment, Tomas simply stared.

“Very nice,” he finally said. “Brothers Brenneth and Nathzur, I presume? We expected you tomorrow morning, but I can understand why you came earlier. You’ll wish to be partners, but should you have a change of mind,” he looked pointedly at Kiera, “please don’t hesitate to ask for me. I assure you, I may look young, but I get the job done – to everyone’s mutual satisfaction.” He gave a small chuckle. “Now, if you’ll come with me?” He turned to leave, clearly expecting them to follow.

Nicoli exchanged glances with Kiera. He could tell she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of leaving the shuttle, but resisting the invitation would alarm their host. Besides, Nicoli saw this as an opportunity to learn more. If his suspicion was correct, then introducing the Holocaust virus into the computer system hadn’t been an exercise in overkill.

Nicoli held his hand out to her. “Shall we?”

Her hand fit perfectly in his. Leading her off the shuttle, he paused outside the hatch to look around. The small encampment lay at the far end of the landing field and it was surrounded by - nothing; kilometers of nothing in all directions.

Still holding hands, they followed after their host, who was already heading across the landing field.

“Who you were is no longer important,” Tomas said once they’d caught up to him. “You are Reborn," - he emphasized the word - "and we ask that you not discuss your former identities while you’re here. You’ll be given an identification band.” He held up his arm to show them the small metal band around his wrist. “And you'll be asked to select a new name. This is a fresh start for all of us.” He smiled over his shoulder, then continued on.

When they reached the first small building, they found another young man waiting for them. He had the same blond hair and pure complexion as their guide and greeted them with an equally warm smile as he handed Tomas two identification bands.

“These are your identification bands.” Tomas handed them each a band and showed them how to strap the bands around their wrists.

“Please wear them at all times during your stay," he continued. "We have tried to emulate the primitive environment of our new home, but it is necessary to retain some of our technology for security and tracking purposes. With these bands, you should have no trouble gaining access to all areas of the colony. Should you lose your band, come back to this gate for another.

“Now, in these two rooms," he continued, waving toward two doors, "you'll find clothes. No one wears robes beyond this point. Men's clothes on the right and women's on the left. After you've changed, please join me back here."

Nicoli was about to offer to wait outside her door while Kiera changed clothes, thinking she might be worried at being separated from him, but she simply pulled free with a muttered "be glad to get rid of this robe" and disappeared through the door on the left.

Feeling Tomas' gaze on him, Nicoli headed through the door on the right.

Two trunks sat in the middle of the room. One contained an assortment of shirts and the other contained pants. Shoes lined the far wall. There was nothing special about the clothing; it was similar to the kind worn by most traders.

The sound of raised voices arguing caused him to change quickly and hurry back out into the main room where he found Kiera wearing the shirt and pants he’d given her back in the donor room She was glaring at Tomas and the air around them fairly crackled.

"Did I miss something?" Nicoli asked.

"He won't let me wear these clothes. He's insisting I wear this sack." She held up a rolled ball of fabric and thrust it at Nicoli who took it automatically.

"The women of Rebirth do not wear pants," Tomas said in a way that led Nicoli to believe that he'd delivered this statement many times before. "If it's a question of being unfamiliar with how to wear it, I can provide assistance."

"The hell you will," Nicoli growled, placing his palm flat on the other man's chest when he stepped forward. If that smiling bastard thought Nicoli would let him anywhere near her, then he was making a fatal mistake.

Tomas' eyes widened, first in what looked like fear and then indignation. "Then she," he emphasized the word, "should change clothes immediately. Anyone not willing to obey the rules will be sent to recycling. There is a long list of citizens hoping for a place in Rebirth."

Nicoli gave Tomas a stern look as he took her by the arm and moved off a short distance to speak to her privately.

"Did he touch you? Harm you in any way?"

"No," she said.

"Then do us both a favor.” He shoved the dress at her. "Put the damn thing on. We can't afford to draw attention to ourselves."

For half a second, she glared up at him and he braced for an argument. Then she muttered something under her breath and, snatching the dress from his hand, disappeared into the changing room.

Tomas and Nicoli waited for her in stony silence. When she reappeared, Nicoli gave silent thanks to the Harvesters for their archaic rules. The simple gown accentuated her figure and was provocative in ways that more revealing clothing could never be. Nicoli's gaze wandered over her in great appreciation - until he noticed her glaring at him. With effort, he forced himself to look at Tomas.

"Now," Tomas continued in the same pleasant tone he'd used before, "what names have you selected for yourselves?” He looked first at Nicoli who saw no reason not to use his actual name.

"I am Nicoli and this is Kiera.”

Tomas gave the information to the other young man whose fingers typed away at a virtual computer keyboard. Nicoli knew he was entering their names into the system, but it didn't matter. By the time the Holocaust virus ran its course, there would be no recoverable data left.

A moment later, the young man finished and at his nod, Tomas turned back to them. "Please follow me. I’ll give you a quick tour before we head to the main hall for dinner. We have a special treat tonight. Brother Joh’nan will give us an update on our new home world. Very exciting.”

He led them out the back exit of the building and it was like stepping into another world. The colony before them was laid out in a large square and they were standing in front of one of the many identical stone structures lining the perimeter. In the very center of the colony, separated from the surrounding structures by a wide, packed-dirt walkway, was a larger building which Tomas identified as the main meeting and banquet hall.

Except for the scattering of modern technology - like the space shuttles, security wrist bands and lighting towers placed at the four corners of the square - the entire complex resembled the primitive villages found on his home planet of Althusia - two centuries ago.

“What are they doing?” Nicoli asked, seeing several different groups of people involved in various activities throughout the colony.

“Our old jobs and roles are not applicable to this new life, so everyone must learn new ones. The men in this first group, for instance, will be warriors and protectors. Therefore, they are learning to fight.”

The first group consisted of tall, well-muscled men divided into two opposing teams, each man wielding a weapon unlike anything Nicoli had seen before - a three-bladed sword.

“What type of weapon is that?” he asked.

“Warring blade,” Kiera muttered before Tomas could respond.

“I see you’ve been familiarizing yourself with the new ways. Very commendable.” Tomas nodded approvingly before continuing along the walkway.

Nicoli gave Kiera a curious look. Seeing it, she shrugged. "It just came to me. And that's not all. This whole place looks familiar. I feel like I should know it.”

“It’ll come. Don’t try to push it.”

Tomas led them past a second group of men. They weren’t as muscular or tall as the men in the first group and instead of swords, they used long handled instruments to dig and turn the barren soil.

Beyond them, a group of women dunked clothing into a fabricated, in-ground water source. Other women stood nearby, cradling wrapped bundles in their arms.

“What are those women doing?” The woman asked.

“Some of them are learning to wash clothes in creeks, while the others are holding babies. Not real ones, of course, they’re simulated. No one has successfully given birth yet, but we keep trying.” Tomas smiled. “As a woman, you will be trained to the best of our knowledge in the proper methods of running a home and rearing children.”

The sound of shouting drew Nicoli's attention to a group of women gathered in the corner of the colony. They stood with their heads down while a group of men paced before them, stabbing the air with their hands and hollering at them.

“What's going on over there?” He asked.

Tomas’s face lost its smile. “That is the more unfortunate part of our program. Those are our latest recruits and they are undergoing initial acclimation training. It is difficult to understand a culture where men are in charge and women must obey unconditionally. While such an environment is hard on all of us, it is especially difficult for those citizens who have chosen to go to the New World as females. If recruits cannot learn to accept their new roles, they put the entire program at risk of exposure. So we must make sure they accept these cultural norms by subjecting them to hours of submissiveness training.” He shook his head. “It is not a pleasant experience, but necessary."

He walked off, leaving Nicoli and Kiera to follow after him. As they rounded the next corner of the colony, Nicoli paused to study a group of men and women who were sitting on the ground, covering themselves with handfuls of dirt. "What are they doing?"

“Learning to tolerate dirt.” Tomas held up his hand to stall some anticipated protest. “I know it's disgusting, but I assure you it's safe. These new bodies of ours are quite resistant to germs and disease.”

Tomas glanced up at the setting sun. "They'll signal the end of the workday soon. When they do--"

A loud gong sounded, interrupting him and he smiled, waving a hand as if to say, "there it is.” The groups of men and women around the colony stopped what they were doing and started walking toward the main building.

"For now, the main hall serves as the primary living facility as well as the dining hall. Shall we join the others?" Tomas invited.

Once inside the main building, they proceeded down a wide corridor until they reached a large banquet room. At the very center of the room, an immense metal banquet table was already set with plates. Beyond it, embedded in the far wall, a large viewing screen looked out of place in the otherwise rustic setting.

One by one, people entered the room and took their places at the table, sitting in an alternating male-female pattern. At Tomas’ gesture, Nicoli and Kiera joined them, making sure they sat so as not to disrupt the pattern. After everyone was seated, Nicoli counted twenty-five couples in all.

When his gaze fell on the woman to his left, she favored him with a knowing smile while her gaze openly roamed down his body. Surprised by her forwardness, he awkwardly returned her smile before turning his attention to Kiera on his other side.

“I guess the submissive attitude doesn’t extend to dinnertime,” she muttered, letting him know she'd seen what happened.

At that moment, the large doors on either side of the viewing screen opened and several men carrying large platters of food appeared through them. Nicoli heard Kiera's stomach growl.

“Hungry?”

“Yes. I can’t remember the last time I ate.” She gave him a quick wink to let him know the play on words had been intentional, making him smile.

The aroma of roasted meat and vegetables filled the air as the platters were passed down the table so everyone could serve themselves.

“I wonder where they got the meat?” Nicoli mused aloud, staring at his plate of food.

Kiera’s fork stopped midway to her mouth as she looked over at him. “What do you mean?”

“I haven't seen any animals, have you?”

She lowered her fork, a sick look stealing over her face. “You don’t think these are,” she leaned closer to him so she could whisper, “donors, do you?”

He didn’t want to tell her that was exactly what he’d thought. Just then, Brother Tomas stopped by, leaning down between them to talk.

“How are you doing? I hope you’re hungry. This was all flown in from our new home, just so you could get used to the taste. I realize you’ve never eaten meat before, but I think you’ll discover it’s not unpleasant.” He smiled at Nicoli while letting his hand rest a little too familiarly on Kiera’s shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves.”

When he walked away, Kiera leaned toward Nicoli.

“Do you think it's safe to eat?” She was looking at the piece of meat still impaled on her fork.

Nicoli glanced around at the other diners. They were all eating without hesitation. “It's unlikely they'd go through all the trouble of transferring their people into new bodies just to poison them in the end.” He pierced one of the pieces of meat on his plate and held it up. “I’ll go first. That way if something happens, it’ll happen to me.”

She shook her head. “And get left here alone, no I don’t think so. I'll go first.” Before he could stop her, she’d put the meat into her mouth and started to chew. “Ummm. This is good. You should try it.” Swallowing, she stabbed another.

Nicoli watched her lips wrap around the meat and pull it from the fork. His throat suddenly dry, he picked up his glass and took a swallow of a pleasantly sweet liquid. Setting his glass back down, he looked across the table and forced his thoughts away from the erotic images filling his mind to more important matters. He needed to find a way to get back to the shuttle. Time was running out.

Picking up another bite of food, he put it in his mouth. When he looked up, he found the woman seated across the table was watching him. She ran her tongue seductively across her lips and winked.

Nicoli was used to women flirting with him, but usually they were more subtle. He looked away only to find Kiera laughing at something the man sitting beside her had said.

For reasons he didn't care to examine too closely, Nicoli didn't like that. He was on the verge of interrupting them when the room lights dimmed and the large viewing screen lit up with images of green pastures and small villages resembling the encampment.

“Brothers and sisters. Welcome to Rebirth," a voice announced. "It has long been my dream to find the means by which our people can once again return to a normal life; a life where we can shed our robes and raise our faces to the sun. A life where women and children are not yesterday’s memory. A life where our race will flourish and our people prosper.”

The speaker paused and everyone around the table broke out in wild cheers and applause. No one noticed that Nicoli and Kiera were late to join in. After the noise subsided, the speaker continued.

“When you have finished your period of acclimation, you will be brought to Coronado to join the others. As you know, I have secured a place of importance in the House of Scyphor. Soon the position of High Counsel will be mine and then we can complete the final phase of our mission; complete planetary control. Everything is going according to plan.”

The speaker’s voice faded into silence. Tomas stood and walked to the front of the room. “Thank you Brother Joh’nan.” He smiled at the group. “I hope everyone is enjoying their meal. When you feel ready, please continue on to the next phase of your assimilation. As usual, should you have any questions or problems, simply alert one of the servers and an instructor will be brought in to help. Private chambers are available down the hall.” Tomas glanced quickly off to the side, to someone hidden behind the viewing screen. “It would seem we are ready to serve the second course, so I won’t keep you any longer. Please enjoy.”

Tomas returned to his seat at the table, but the lights remained dimmed. The last image of Brother Joh'nan's presentation faded from the screen and was replaced with a display of slowly swirling colors. From somewhere, soft music filtered into the room.

Nicoli wondered what Tomas meant by the next phase of assimilation. He reached for his glass of wine before remembering he'd drunk the last of it before the presentation. To his surprise, the cup was full once more. The servers were most adept, he thought with admiration even as a gentle numbness settled over his thoughts.

Feeling someone’s gaze on him, he looked around and found himself staring into the eyes of the woman across the table. Odd how he hadn’t noticed before how attractive she was. In fact, looking around the table, all of the women here were exquisite in their beauty. Even knowing they were female donors repossessed by male Harvesters didn’t diminish their attractiveness.

Beside him, Kiera raised her glass to take a drink and the movement drew his gaze. He was mesmerized by the sheen of wine clinging to her sweet lips, leaving them shiny and slick. His gaze traveled down the slender column of her throat as it pulsed with each swallow. Perhaps feeling his attention on her, she turned to him, her tongue darting out to capture a lingering drop of wine. The gesture left his clothes feeling suddenly too snug.

“I thought this would be horrible," she said, her words coming out a little slurred. "But it’s not so bad.”

Her husky voice drew his attention back to her face, which seemed flushed. His eyes followed the path of color as it swept down her throat to the low plunge of her neckline. Uncontrollably, images of her nude body sprang into his mind.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” she whispered, thankfully unaware of his thoughts. She placed her hand on his arm, a seemingly innocent gesture that ignited his flesh where they touched. His whole body tightened with awareness as he realized how much he wanted her. The intensity of his feelings was unsettling and he grabbed his goblet, draining the contents to ease his suddenly parched throat.

Setting the empty container back on the table, he looked around the room hoping to find something to distract his thoughts from the woman inspiring them.

The couple across the table sat with their heads together. At first, Nicoli thought they were whispering to one another, but upon closer look, realized they were kissing. Even as he watched, the man trailed the back of his hand gently up along the woman’s side until his fingers grazed the side of one breast, where his attention lingered for some time. Rather than be put off by his advances, the woman seemed to welcome them.

Nicoli should have felt outraged on her behalf. Instead, he felt aroused, barely able to look away. Making matters worse, on the viewing screen, the pastoral pictures of green pastures and babbling brooks had been replaced by graphic images of couples engaged in all manner of sexual activities.

No one seemed offended by the display; in fact, no one seemed to even notice. Everyone was preoccupied.

At the far end of the table, a woman sat in a man’s lap, her legs wrapped around his hips as they kissed. Nicoli’s discomfort grew worse.

Warning bells pealed in his head, too indistinct to demand his attention.

He nearly groaned aloud when a hand slid across his lap to stroke the inside of his thigh. Turning, he tried to ignore his disappointment that the hand did not belong to Kiera.

“Shall we go to a room?” The woman sitting to his left leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his arm. At his hesitation, she rushed to reassure him. "Don’t worry if it’s your first time. I've done this before. I'll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

Yes, he wanted to find a room. Desperately. Urgently. Now.

He opened his mouth to tell her so.

“I don't think so," a voice that wasn't his replied.

Accurately sensing danger, the woman withdrew her hand with a little laugh. “Sure thing, honey. He's all yours - for now." She turned back to address Nicoli, ignoring Kiera’s hostile glare. "You go with her tonight. Tomorrow, when you're ready to learn what an experienced partner can offer, come find me."

She switched her attention to the man on her other side, but Nicoli hardly noticed. He couldn't think past the intense violet color of Kiera’s eyes peering up at him. A man could drown in that gaze.

“What the hell?" she demanded. "Were you seriously considering going off with her?” She paused as a horrified expression spread over her face. "Oh...I'm sorry. I don’t know what got into me. What you do...” She gave a dismissive wave with her hand. "Your business--"

"It's you I want."

He closed the distance between them, giving her time to pull away, but she didn't. As soon as their lips touched, hunger ignited deep within him. She tasted of wine and the promise of all the things he craved. The world spun around him, leaving him off-balanced. The contact of their lips became his only anchor, his lifeline. If he let go, he’d drown in the whirlpool of desire engulfing him.

The sudden clatter of dishes jerked his attention to where a couple, having just swept the table clean, now sprawled naked, a tangle of arms and legs. Nicoli looked around, taking in a scene that looked like the party lounge of Delta Sixty-Niner with couples sprawled all around the room.

The warning bells rang louder in his head.

"Don't go anywhere," he told Kiera, emphasizing the last word.

Getting up from the table, he looked for Tomas, spotting him across the room - entangled with a woman, of course.

Nicoli pushed away from the table and was about to walk off when he noticed an unattached man - possibly the only one in the room - showing a marked interest in Kiera. “On second thought," he growled, "maybe you should come with me.” Taking her hand, he helped her to her feet.

"Tomas!" They caught up with the guide just as it seemed he was preparing to leave the room with his companion. “What’s going on around here? Why is everyone acting this way?”

Tomas looked at him with glazed eyes that took a moment to focus. “It’s the next phase,” he said, as if that were explanation enough.

“Next phase? What exactly does that mean?”

“Procreation, of course. I thought you understood. How can our race flourish if we don’t procreate?”

Realization dawned. “There’s something in the food.”

"In the wine, actually." Tomas agreed. "Mostly, the women's wine. It's been spiked with pheromones to help the women - who've spent their entire lives as men - overcome their aversion to having sex with men. Our hope is that they can learn to enjoy it. The men get just enough of the pheromones to ensure they can provide the women with a climax sufficient enough to release the quantity of oxytocins needed to counteract the harmful effects of overdosing the women with pheromones.”

Nicoli had never heard of this. "How harmful?"

"The effects can be fatal," Tomas said, his tone sobering. Misinterpreting Nicoli's frown, Tomas patted Nicoli’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We have safeguards. If you are not able to give your partner the release she needs, then we have counselors who will step in and finish for you. In the state she’s in,” he pointed to Kiera, now shifting back and forth on her feet in obvious discomfort, “she won’t care who brings her to release.”

Nicoli was furious, but whether it was solely because they'd been drugged or partly due to the prospect of another man touching or having sex with Kiera, he wasn't sure.

“I don’t feel right,” she said softly, clutching his arm and leaning into him.

He had only to look at her to know how uncomfortable she was.

“Is there a place where we can go?” he asked Tomas.

“Of course. You may use any of the chambers down that hall.” Tomas gestured with his head to the side, indicating the hallway to their right. "In the morning, a gong will sound to announce breakfast. Until you hear it, though, feel free to sleep in.” Giving them a wink, he hooked his arm around his companion and they walked away.

Nicoli didn't wait to see where they went. Still holding Kiera’s hand, he led her from the banquet room and proceeded down the long hallway. He'd hoped that once night fell, he and Kiera would be able to sneak back to the ship. There was a chance it would take them back to the city where they'd find another way to the Icarus - hopefully, before Yanur and Michels followed his instructions and left the planet.

He glanced down at Kiera wondering if she'd be okay until they reached the ship. Once there, Yanur was sure to have something in his medical bag that would undo the effects of the pheromones. All they had to do was find an open room and wait a bit. It shouldn't take long before everyone else was too preoccupied to notice them leaving the building.

They'd reached the end of the hall when Kiera let out a groan. Her legs seemed to buckle and she would have fallen had Nicoli not scooped her up into his arms.

Abandoning the idea of escape for the moment, he spotted a room with an open door and carried her inside, shutting the door behind them.

It was a small room with a large bed dominating most of it. A sunken tub, large enough to hold two, sat in one corner and a stand containing goblets and bottles of wine - probably laced with pheromones - stood in the other. The wall opposite the door had a window, with the curtains pulled closed. Nicoli carried Keira to the bed and set her down.

“How do you feel?” He almost laughed at the idiocy of his own question. It was obvious from watching the way she tossed her head and pressed her thighs together that she was in pain. His own discomfort nagged at him, making him edgy. Hers must be ten times worse.

He couldn’t allow it to continue, not with her life in the balance. Chivalry and honor warred with circumstance and his growing discomfort. Unable to ignore her any longer, he strode over to her, telling himself that what he was about to do was for her benefit, not his. A service, nothing more.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he laid a hand gently on her arm. She cried out as if burned by his touch, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes.

“It’s getting worse.”

Overcome by a need to ease her pain - and if he were honest, his own growing discomfort - he stretched out alongside her, pulling her into his arms, her back to his front.

"I'm going to make the pain go away," he promised her, whispering the words in her ear.

She arched her back, pressing her butt against his swollen cock. He nearly moaned aloud at how good she felt. He wrapped an arm around her hips to hold her there, letting his fingers slide along the bend in her hip, downward to the juncture of her legs. He would have delved further had the fabric of her gown not been in his way.

So he stroked her through the fabric instead.

She shuddered beneath his touch, reaching back with her hand to cup his butt and holding him in place as she pressed closer still.

The need to caress her bare skin had him pulling up her gown until he could slip his hand beneath the cloth and caress the warmth of her skin. She shivered at his touch, but didn’t pull away. He let his hand travel upward, until he reached the gentle swell of her breast. Cupping the lush mound with his hand, he rubbed his thumb across her nipple, teasing it into a tight pebble.

A groan escaped from her throat as she pushed against his hand. Rolling her onto her back, he leaned over so he could capture her lips with his own, running his tongue along their seam, coaxing them open. When her lips finally opened, he rushed to take advantage, slipping his tongue inside to savor her taste and drink his fill of her.

Suddenly, the layer of clothing between them was too much. Nicoli rid them of the unwanted garments, doing so with just enough presence of mind to not rip them in the process.

Though he’d seen her naked before, he was not prepared for how the sight of her now would affect him. She was perfection. Even the scars on her body did not detract from her beauty.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he was surprised when he felt her hesitant touch as she sifted her fingers through the mat of hair on his chest. When she began placing light kisses along his pectoral line, he held his breath. When he could take no more, he gently eased her back.

"My turn," he told her, just before he pressed his lips to the base of her neck. She tasted warm and sweet. He flicked his tongue across skin and felt her shiver beneath him. It was all the encouragement he needed to trail warm kisses down the column of her throat until the path brought him to the tip of her breast. There, he sucked the taut nipple into his mouth and teased it with the tip of his tongue.

Beneath him, Kiera arched her back, offering herself to him. Her skin was hot to the touch, reminding Nicoli that she was still in danger. He would need to bring her to release soon before the concentration of toxins built too high. He only hoped he had the strength and willpower to do what must be done without getting her pregnant.

Running a hand along the length of her body, he felt that honor had never come at such a cost.

Reaching the apex of her thighs, he slid his finger easily between the folds of her cleft. Finding her moist and ready, he used her natural dew to massage her opening until her sharp gasp told him he’d found her most sensitive place.

Inserting his finger into her, he withdrew it slowly, stoking the fires of her passion. Over and over, until her nails bit into his back.

When her release finally came upon her, he covered her mouth with his to swallow her cries. Then he gathered her close until her shudders subsided.

The respite was short-lived and soon, Kiera was in need of further attention, which Nicoli provided. Each time he brought her to release, he resolutely ignored his own growing need.

When she finally fell asleep and lay peacefully within the circle of his arms, he knew the level of oxytocin in her system was finally high enough to counteract the deadly effects of the pheromones.

Nicoli made no effort to leave her side. He was glad he had not compromised her, but he was in serious pain. His state of sexual frustration was the worst he’d ever felt - meaning it was going to be a long, long night. There was little hope of his falling asleep but surprisingly, that didn't bother him. Holding her in his arms as he was, he found he was content to stay where he was.

Chapter 11

The dawn of the new day was heralded by a gentle light that slipped through the crack in the drawn curtains to shine in her face. For a moment, it was like she was back home, curled up in bed, safe and warm beneath the covers. Feeling lazy, she stretched - and discovered she wasn't alone in bed.

She should have felt alarmed, but for some reason she wasn't. Curious who would be with her, she gazed at the sleeping man with nearly black hair in disarray about his head and two days of stubble darkening his chiseled jaw and cheeks.

Nicoli.

She recognized him instantly and felt herself blush.

He'd saved her life last night. The images of exactly how he'd done it slowly played out in her mind: Nicoli, naked, his mouth and hands doing things she was too embarrassed to recall in any detail.

Even those thoughts were overshadowed by a dawning realization.

She remembered who she was.

Angel Torrence.

The relief and joy of having her memory back was quickly overshadowed by knowledge of how Nicoli would react when she told him. He would be livid to know that Michels, whom he’d been led to believe was a young man, was in fact the very female Angel, aka Kiera.

Behind her, the warmth of Nicoli’s body pressed against her. He moaned softly and she worried he might be waking. Instead, he reached out with his arm, draping it over her, his hand coming to rest on her breast. She dared not move, or even breathe because if he woke, then she'd have to face what they'd done the night before - and she wasn't ready for that. Somehow, “Hi, I’m Michels. I didn't go back to the ship. Sorry about that, but thanks for last night; the sex was great,” didn’t seem to adequately cover the situation.

“Kiera, I know you’re awake. Everything all right?”

The concern in his voice pulled at her heart. When he found out the truth, it was bound to change things between them. She was too much a realist to expect it to be for the better.

“Kiera?”

“Angel,” she corrected him, opting for a partial truth. “That’s my name.” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath, ignoring how the movement rubbed their bodies closer together. “My memory's back.”

She felt the marginal stiffening of his body.

“Good. That’s good.”

From his tone, she knew he was bracing for what could very well be a difficult and embarrassing conversation.

“Thank you,” she began, wanting to choose her words carefully, "for saving my life. I know it was an unexpected...complication."

When he didn't say anything, she grew more aware of their bodies pressed so close together and her embarrassment grew.

“I need to get up.” Her voice sounded a little desperate.

Before she could figure out how to retrieve her clothes without parading naked across the room, Nicoli threw back the covers and got out of the bed, taking his beautiful body and the warmth it provided, with him. She quickly averted her eyes, but not before getting visual verification that her memory of him had not been exaggerated.

"Here." He scooped their clothes off the floor and tossed her the gown. “As soon as you're dressed, we'll see if we can get out of here.”

She pulled the gown over her head while he was busy pulling on his clothes.

“About last night,” she said, scrambling out of bed. “I'm sorry if I didn't do...that is to say, I'm sorry if you found it..." She blew out a breath, not sure what the right word was for what she wanted to say. "Burdensome. It's just, I haven't had a lot of experience with...that sort of stuff.”

"I know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded, embarrassment turning to anger.

"Nothing. It's just, I could tell from the way you responded that you...” It was his turn to falter for words. "You responded like you haven't been with many men."

I haven't, she thought, but didn't say it out loud. Her lack of experience wasn't because of some archaic need to remain a virgin until she found "the one." Her life - her freedom - depended on staying one or two steps ahead of the men chasing her and that meant not staying in any one place long enough to form attachments. Earth had been her one exception.

"Look, you shouldn't be embarrassed by how you felt or reacted last night," Nicoli said, misinterpreting her silence. "It was the drugs they put into the wine. It wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh.” It didn’t mean anything. She knew he was right, but the words cut through her.

“Time to go,” he announced, ending further conversation by walking to the door.

He bent his head close, listening for sounds on the other side. Apparently not hearing any, he opened the door. Just a crack at first, and then all the way. When Angel followed Nicoli out of the room, she saw that the hallway was empty. With luck, everyone was still sleeping off the effects of the drugs.

Together they walked down the hall and into the main banquet room. The dishes had been cleared from the table and the room sat dark and empty. They crossed the room quickly to the exit and went outside.

There were a few people walking around the square, but no one even looked up when they stepped out of the main building. When Nicoli took her hand in his, she didn't try to pull free.

"As far as they know, we're two lovers out for a leisurely stroll," he told her as they headed off in the direction of the landing field. “With luck, we'll find a shuttle to take us back to the city.”

“Then what?”

“One thing at a time.”

They made their way to the landing field, but when they got there, they found the gates locked.

“How are we going to get in?” Angel asked, studying the height of the fence. It was too tall to jump and she wondered if they might be able to climb it.

Nicoli followed her gaze. “Let me try something first.” Raising his arm, he pressed the identification bracelet around his wrist against the scanner at the gate. They soon heard the satisfying click of the gates unlocking.

On the other side of the fence they found three shuttles waiting. Walking up to the first, they found the hatch already open, so they stepped inside.

Angel wanted to take the pilot’s seat, preferring her flying abilities to Nicoli’s, but she wasn't ready to admit to him that she knew how to fly. While she silently debated with herself on what to do, Nicoli sat down and took the controls. Reluctantly, she took the co-pilot’s chair and helped scan the console.

“I can’t tell if it’s another autopilot or not,” he said.

“Even if it is, any place is better than here, right?” Looking out the window, she saw someone in the distance running toward them. “Company coming. And from the way he’s waving and shouting, I’d say he doesn’t want us to leave.”

“Too bad.” He found the switch that shut and locked the hatch door. "Damn it."

“Problems?”

“The battery’s cold. It’ll take a while to warm up before the thrusters kick in."

"Stop!" The man shouted, coming up to the shuttle. He pounded on the hatch door. "You're not supposed to leave."

“If he gets the hatch open before we start moving, we won’t be going anywhere,” Nicoli muttered.

Angel’s thoughts raced. “We could cold-start the forward thrusters,” she suggested.

He looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

“I’ve done it before,” she continued quickly, “but it requires by-passing the computer’s ignition sequence.”

He smiled. “I think I can help there. You won’t have long before the system detects an error in the program and shuts down.”

She nodded her understanding. “I'll work fast.”

Nicoli’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered commands into the computer. Angel, in the meantime, unscrewed a panel on the ship’s console, exposing several wires and microchips. Fortunately, though the cultures on the planets throughout the universe varied, the technology was fairly standard and she had yet to encounter a ship she couldn't figure out. Studying the chips inserted into the computer board, she was glad to see this one was no different.

Behind them came the sound of the hatch locks deactivating.

“On my mark,” Nicoli said. “Now.”

Angel pulled three chips from their spots and re-inserted one sideways, tossing the other two over her shoulder. As she did, she caught Nicoli's worried gaze.

"I know what I'm doing," she assured him, hoping she was right. "Try the engines now."

Nicoli pressed the starter button. The engine sputtered and then roared to life. As the shuttle rose, the hatch doors fell shut.

Soon, the Rebirth Colony was left far behind.

Angel knew she should take advantage of the two-hour flight to tell Nicoli that she was Michels, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Plus, it didn't hurt that Nicoli never asked her about how she came to be a donor. Instead, he focused all his attention on breaking into the ship's computer and Angel rationalized her silence as giving him the quiet he needed to work.

All too soon, the Harvesters' main processing building came into view and the shuttle landed into a state of general confusion. There were robed figures rushing into and out of the building with plenty of shouting, though Angel couldn't make out their words.

"We need to be careful," Nicoli said, studying the scene at the building. "First thing we need to do is find a couple of robes. Dressed like this - especially you - we're bound to be noticed."

Angel nodded but refused to let him draw her away from the landing area once they'd stepped out of the shuttle. Now that she had her memory back, she knew the fastest way back to the airfield was to take a transport back to the market square where she'd bid on Nicoli's body.

“There,” she said, spotting one.

She broke away from Nicoli and ran to the hatch. Not giving Nicoli time to stop her, she'd climbed aboard and pushed the starter. The transport roared to life.

"Trust me, please," she implored, when he still made no move to follow her.

Nicoli considered their options. The last thing he wanted to do was step into another Harvester vehicle and end up back at the Rebirth Colony, but without robes and exposed as they were, standing out in the open was even less appealing.

Making up his mind, he followed Kiera - after last night, he would always think of her as his kiera - through the hatch and found her sitting behind the controls. He would much prefer to be the one piloting the transport but she obviously had some knowledge of flying, so he didn't argue.

"Let's go," he said, taking the co-pilot's seat. "From what I remember, the airfield is about ten kilometers south southwest of our current location."

Kiera nodded as she fed power to the thrusters and the transport eased forward. Soon, they had pulled away from the main processing building. As they flew, he had time to think about his companion.

He’d told her before “kiera” meant “heart of a warrior,” but the actual meaning of the word was less about having the spirit of a warrior and more about that which a warrior held closest to his own heart. Given the short amount of time they’d known each other, it was unsettling how appropriate the name had become.

When they were safely away from the planet, he’d try to convince her to stay with him long enough to see where this relationship could go.

Ten minutes later, the airfield was in sight. Nicoli gave silent thanks that something had finally gone their way. If only their luck would hold.

Since they couldn't fly the transport onto the field, they parked it.

"We'll have to walk," Nicoli said, wishing they'd found a Harvestor robe or even trader's clothing for Kiera to wear. There weren't that many female traders who wore gowns. In fact, there weren't any.

Looking around the inside of the shuttle, Nicoli's gaze fell on the long flat metal flap covering the seam of the transport's back window. It took a bit of doing, but Nicoli was able to pry it off.

"What are you doing?" Kiera asked.

"Making you a collar."

"Excuse me?"

"The only way for you to walk into that building without drawing attention is if everyone thinks you’re a donor, so I'm making you a collar."

Torqueing the metal, he bent it into a circular shape and then wrapped it around Kiera's neck. Then he stood back to study his work.

"It's not going to fool anyone up close, but from a distance, it'll do. Shall we go?"

Together they exited the transport and walked toward the building. They had almost reached the entrance, when two robed figures stepped forward, each holding an auto-mag Trader’s Special.

Standing just outside the entrance, they scanned the crowd. There was no way to know whether the armed figures were searching specifically for them, but Nicoli wasn’t about to take any chances. With a hand at Kiera's elbow, he guided her to a slower walk, timing their final approach so they arrived at the entrance as a large group of traders reached it.

Hidden in the crowd, they walked past the guards through the entrance without drawing attention. That's when their luck ran out; when the traders veered off in different direction, the guards spotted them.

Grabbing Kiera's hand, Nicoli pulled her after him as he pushed his way through the line of traders waiting to be scanned. Several men objected, but the dark scowl on Nicoli's face must have been enough to quiet them. Just before stepping through the scanner, Nicoli pulled the collar off Kiera's throat and tossed it aside, not knowing what would happen should the scanner detect the metal.

They passed through the beams without incident and were halfway to the far exit when a scream brought them to a sudden stop. Looking back, Nicoli saw a crowd gathered around one of the scanners, wisps of white vapor that had once been a person still clinging to the air. Among the crowd stood a single armed figure.

Tough break for the guard who forgot he was carrying a weapon, but lucky for him and Kiera. It wouldn't be long before the other guard found a way around the scanners, though. Nicoli wanted to make the best of their opportunity.

He reached for Kiera's hand again, having lost it when they stopped running, only to find himself clutching at air. Where had she gone?

He looked around, worried. She couldn't survive this place alone. Just then, he felt a touch at his elbow. Spinning around, he found Kiera standing there as if she'd been there all along.

"Where'd you go?” Relief at finding her safe tempered his anger.

"Over there, by the plants," she replied, far too calmly. "I thought the idea was to stay hidden and I thought they'd provide better cover than standing out in the open."

He frowned at the logic, knowing she was right. "We stay together, understand?"

"Of course, but shouldn't we get going?"

"In a second.” Nicoli studied the airfield beyond, noticing that none of the ships were taking off. "I was afraid of this," he finally said. "They're holding the ships until they find us.” He looked around the inside of the building. "If I can locate the main tower controls...” He turned slowly, making sure not to overlook anything.

"What? You'll break in? Fight all the Harvesters there single-handedly and then turn off the stasis fields?"

"You have a better idea?"

"Maybe you don't have to take out all the towers.” She'd been pressing a hand to her stomach, but moved it away now just enough for him to make out the small hand laser she had hidden. "You can take out just the one holding your ship."

"Where the hell did you get that?” He took the weapon from her and checked the gauge before tucking it into his waistband and pulling his shirt to cover it. It was fully charged.

“I found it in one of the planters. Now, can we go?”

He didn’t wait to hear more. Together they ran out the back of the building. The yard was filled with ships and the Icarus hovered fifth in line on the left. For Nicoli, the ship had never looked so good. He raced toward it, making sure Kiera didn't lag behind. Just as they reached it, the hatch door opened.

"Alex? Can it really be you?" Yanur shouted, leaning out the door, looking slightly worse for wear since the last time Nicoli had seen him.

"I'll tell you all about it later," Nicoli promised, shoving Kiera in front of him. "We need to leave - now!"

"Yes, of course.” Yanur backed out of the way to give Kiera space to scramble aboard. "What are you doing?"

Nicoli headed for the stasis tower holding the ship. "Making sure there's nothing holding us here when Michels takes off. Michels' aboard, right?” Nicoli wouldn't leave the boy behind but it would sure be inconvenient to have to go find him. Nicoli glanced back at Yanur, needing an answer. "Is he aboard or not?"

Yanur glanced back into the ship as if he could see Michels sitting in the pilot's seat, which Nicoli knew he couldn't. “Yes, yes.” Yanur shouted back. "Michels is here."

“Tell him to start the engines and get ready to fly - and make sure the woman is strapped in. We're not going to have much time.”

The sound of shouting drew his attention to the control tower as traders burst through the doors and ran for the ships. Mixed in with the crowd were several robed Harvesters - and they were armed.

Nicoli flipped the power setting on the hand laser to high and heard the hum as the charge built. Placing it as high up into the structure of the tower as he could reach, he left it and returned to the ship, securing the hatch after him.

Hurrying to the bridge, he found Yanur sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. When the old man made to rise, Nicoli waved him back down and took the seat behind the pilot. The tall back of the pilot's chair obstructed Nicoli's view of Michels, all except for the boy's hands, which were busy flipping switches and entering commands into the console.

"Where's Kiera?" Nicoli asked, wondering why she wasn't sitting in the fourth chair. He saw Yanur exchange a confused look with Michels. “The woman I was with,” Nicoli explained with some irritation. Who else could he have meant?

Something pinged the front view screen.

"They're firing at us," Nicoli shouted. “Damn it, Yanur. Is the woman safely aboard or not?”

“Yes, of course, she’s right—“

The sound of a small explosion drowned out the rest of his words, but Nicoli had heard what he needed to. Now it was time to find out if the laser's charge had disabled the stasis field. “Michels, get us out of here.”

The silence that followed his command was momentary - and then everything happened at once.

As the engines roared to life, two robed Harvesters appeared through the front view screen, their weapons trained on the Icarus. Before they could fire, a series of small explosions started inside the stasis tower; the explosion from the hand laser making the entire tower unstable. Suddenly, the Icarus and three other vessels were released.

Michels hit the thrusters and the ship shot straight up. Without clearance or guidance from the tower, Michels had to navigate around several other vessels trying to make their escape. It was even trickier to avoid a crash while also dodging the missiles the control tower shot at them.

Against the odds, they soon reached open space.

“Michels, you are one hell of a pilot,” Nicoli exclaimed, unstrapping his safety belt to lean forward.

“Thank you.”

This time, without other distractions, Nicoli had no trouble recognizing that voice, but it didn't make sense. Placing his hands on the pilot’s chair, he turned it around and found Kiera sitting there.

“What are you doing? Where’s Michels?” He looked around the bridge as if expecting the boy to suddenly appear. When he didn’t, he grew suspicious.

“Yanur – where’s Michels? He made it back to ship, didn’t he?” He was growing alarmed at the thought of having to return to the planet in order to rescue the boy.

Yanur, for some reason Nicoli couldn’t fathom, wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yes, Michels is okay.”

Enough of this. “Yanur, where the hell is Michels?”

“I’m Michels,” Kiera said. She nodded when he stared at her, his brain unable to make sense of her words. “It’s been me all along.”

“Kiera? You lied to me?” He growled.

She had the decency to look abashed. “It’s Angel – or Michels if you prefer - and yes, I did, at first. But not later. The memory loss was real.”

“How comforting,” he said with as much disdain as he could muster.

Chapter 12

Nicoli bent over the pilot’s chair, grabbing the sides and effectively boxing Angel in. He lowered his face to hers so she wouldn’t miss any part of the glare he gave her. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“She went there to save you.” Yanur’s voice held parental censure, but it only fueled Nicoli’s anger.

“Yeah and she did one hell of a job of it, too. I found her lying unconscious on a donor table with a collar around her neck.”

“What are you talking about?”

Yanur’s concern and confusion were obvious, but it fell on deaf ears. When Nicoli thought about what might have become of Angel if he hadn't found her...all his anger, and frustration from the night before, spilled out and he turned on Yanur. “You knew she was a woman but you let her go anyway and she almost died. Died, damn it.”

“Stop yelling at him.”

“Stay out of this.” He whipped his head around to glare at her. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“It doesn’t concern me? How do you figure that?” Now Angel was shouting.

“You should never have been involved in this. If I had known you were a woman, I would never have allowed you to go.”

“Allowed me? Allowed me? You ungrateful ass, you needed me.”

“I could have found another way to achieve my goal. Without you,” Nicoli argued.

“Get real. If I hadn’t gone down and transferred your life essence back into your body, you’d still be living in a tube and your body would be having one hell of a time as someone’s sex slave. So instead of yelling at me and Yanur, you should be thanking us.”

“Alex, I would not have let her go if there had been another way,” Yanur said, speaking with exaggerated patience. “I think Michels...ah, I mean Angel, is it? ...is a rather remarkable young woman and if you’d perhaps allow yourself a chance to get to know her better, you would change your mind.”

“I’d say last night that last night we had a chance to become intimately acquainted, wouldn’t you?” He gave Angel a pointed look. "And yet, somehow, your being Michels just never came up. Why is that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know why. After you found me, I had amnesia - but before that, I did try to tell you."

“Oh really. When was that exactly?"

“Right before I transferred you, but you wouldn’t let me explain.”

“Bad timing on your part, sweetheart.”

“I know," she admitted, surprising him. "Which is why I tried again this morning, after I remembered who I was.” She spoke so softly, Nicoli could barely make out the words. He remembered the moment when she woke that morning and the conversation they’d had. She had been trying to tell him something, but he’d misunderstood.

Nicoli pushed himself out of the chair, going to stand near the open doorway. If he were honest with himself, he might admit that he was more upset with Yanur than with Angel. It would take him a long time to get over that betrayal.

As if sensing how Nicoli felt, Yanur rose from the co-pilot’s seat and moved toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll return to my room for a bit.”

Nicoli stepped aside and watched him go without saying a word.

“You know, he only did it because he cares about you.”

Nicoli didn’t want, or need, any lectures from her, so he shot her a look that he hoped conveyed that sentiment. “You’re in my chair.” A startled look flashed across her face. Or maybe it was hurt. Either way, he didn’t care. “Get up.”

To her credit, she didn’t hop right up. She turned back to the controls to make sure the ship was on auto-pilot before vacating his chair. Even then, she only moved as far as the co-pilot’s seat.

He sat down, flipped off the auto-pilot and took the steering column in his hands. It felt good to be in control. Control of his body. Control of his ship. Control of some part of his life. No one, especially a woman, was going to take that away from him.

“What’s the matter, Colonel Romanof? Don’t you trust me?”

“Nicoli. I think after what we’ve been through, we’re at least on a first name basis.” He fell silent, watching the stars go by, trying not to think too hard.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She was tenacious, he’d give her that.

“In the short span of our acquaintance, you've stolen my ship and lied to me about who you are. Not exactly a strong foundation for trust, would you say?”

“Those were all extreme circumstances.”

“Honey, in my line of work, those are the only kind we get.”

“I saved your life. I think you owe me a second chance.”

“Is that right? Well, I saved yours, so I’d say we’re square. But I’ll humor you. Tell me about yourself. Help me understand the kind of person you are. For instance, when you’re not stealing ships, what do you do for a living?”

There was a slight pause before she answered. “I’m a pilot. I run my own courier service.”

“I see.” He leaned forward to type on the computer’s keyboard.

“What are you doing?”

“Verifying your claim. I keep a record of all registered pilots. Angel Torrence. Isn’t that the name you gave me? Or do you go under another name? Michels, for instance.”

He heard her take a deep breath and let it out. “You won’t find it in your database. I’m not registered.”

“Naturally not. And why is that?”

“Because I courier illegal goods.” There was a note of exasperation to her voice.

“Aaahh. Now there’s a profession to inspire trust and confidence.”

“Fine, believe what you want.” The gaze she turned on him could have frozen boiling water. “I’m sure you’re as anxious to be rid of me as I am to be gone, so as soon as we get back to Earth, you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“Fine.” He snarled. “But don’t hold your breath waiting to get there. We have another stop to make before we return.”

“What do you mean another stop?”

He thought he detected a note of worry in her tone. That was fine with him. Let her worry about being stuck with him for a while. Why should he be the only one to suffer?

“My mission isn’t over. I intend to stop the Harvesters. And if that means going to another planet to do it, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I don’t want to spend that much time with you.”

“Actually, it’s not that far. Just over in the next quadrant.” He'd been laying in their course, but at her quick breath, he looked over at her. “What’s the matter with you?”

“No...nothing. Which planet?”

“Why?”

“Damn it, Nicoli. If you’re going to haul me all over the universe, you can at least tell me which planet you’re taking me to.”

“Coronado, of course.” He studied her face closely. Most people would not have detected her small flinch, but he saw it. "The people there need to be warned about the Harvesters' Rebirth project. Besides, I'd think you'd be excited to be going home. Aren't you Coronadian?"

“Yes, of course. We should warn them.” She stood up abruptly and headed for the door. “Excuse me. I’m tired. I’m going to lie down.”

He watched her practically race from the bridge, then turned back to look out the front viewport, glad to finally be alone with his thoughts. There was a time in the not too distant past when logic ruled him, but from the moment he’d transferred back into his body, emotions bombarded him, controlled him. Or maybe it was from the moment he’d found Angel, lying helpless in the donor room. The timing between the two was so close it was hard to tell which event triggered this emotional upheaval, but it needed to end. There was work to be done.

He sent a message to USP headquarters providing the coordinates of the Harvesters’ planet. A contingent of soldiers would be sent to see that any operations still functioning were shut down and the survivors transported some place where they could be watched and cared for. Personally, he didn’t care if the whole damn race was exterminated.

Once that task was completed, he began working on a computer program to access the data he'd copied from the Harvesters' computer. Work was what he needed now and the Harvesters' database would provide him with plenty of it.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Angel woke from a nightmare. It was one that was all too familiar and left her feeling panicked and breathless. She sat up in bed, skin damp with perspiration and noticed that the air in her room was stifling hot.

This scenario, too, was familiar. Angel didn’t even bother to find her shoes before racing barefoot to the bridge.

“What’s going on?” She paused to take a couple of deep breaths. “I came as quickly as I…” She looked around, but there was no one there.

Out the front view screen, she saw only empty space and stars. When she listened for sounds, she heard only silence. There was no one attacking the ship, no immediate danger. Yet something was wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax and in doing so, noticed the results of the diagnostic scan still on the computer screen. Everything appeared normal, until she saw the readout on the rear thrusters.

She headed to the thruster uptake shafts on the lower level and found Nicoli kneeling on the floor before an assortment of tools. At her approach, he glanced up briefly.

“I saw the diagnostics on the bridge.” For some reason, she felt the need to explain being there.

“Yeah. There’s a problem with the uptake. The thrusters overheated and shut down. Which is why it’s so damn hot in here – no air flow.”

Though they were talking, the tension between them was nearly a physical thing weighing on her. She hated it.

“Can you fix it?”

“I’m going to try.” He picked up a small torch and activated it, adjusting the blue light at the end until it was the size of the tip of his finger.

Seemingly satisfied, he turned off the torch and clipped it to his belt. Looking over at Angel, he frowned. “Where are your shoes?”

“I, uh, thought we were under attack. You know, the heat in my room…” She paused until the reference clicked and he nodded.

"Right."

"Anyway, I didn’t want to waste time looking for shoes if there was trouble. Since I'm here, is there something I can do to help?”

"You know anything about uptake shafts?” She shook her head no, causing him to sigh. "Doesn't matter. Follow me.”

“Where?”

Nicoli nodded his head toward the shaft. “Up there.”

Her eyes drifted to the shaft’s opening and saw only the endless black void beyond. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s too small. We’ll never both fit in there.”

“Nice try. But I’ve already been in there and I promise you, there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

“Well, then, um - I don’t know anything about repairing a ship. So I really won’t be much good to you.”

“Can you hold a luminator?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“That’ll do. There’s a hole in the shaft and I need to seal it by fusing this plate over it.” He held up a square sheet of metal. “One hand to hold the plate in place while the other operates the torch. That leaves me one hand short to hold the luminator, which is why I need you. Understand?”

She nodded, unwilling to embarrass herself further. Reluctantly, she accepted the cylindrical tube he handed her and watched as he climbed through the shaft’s opening.

Almost drawn against her will, Angel took a step closer. Nicoli worked his way along the shaft and as he did, the darkness slowly swallowed him until, too soon for Angel's comfort, he disappeared from sight.

Angel swallowed hard. I can't do this.

The bottom ledge of the opening was about waist high. She activated the luminator and after assuring herself that the beam shone strong and steady, she directed it into the shaft. Immediately the blackness disappeared and with the shiny metal of the shaft’s four walls reflecting back the light, it didn’t seem nearly as daunting. She could even see Nicoli’s feet not far ahead.

With only a moment’s further hesitation, Angel ducked her head into the shaft, used her elbows to drag herself all the way in and then began to crawl after Nicoli. She heard him moving steadily forward ahead of her. Concentrating only on the task at hand, Angel moved one arm forward, then one knee and so on, edging forward, never daring to look behind her where the luminator's beam couldn't reach, knowing if she did, she would see the darkness closing in.

Angel didn’t know how long they crawled along the tunnel - shaft, she mentally corrected herself - but the further in they went, the windier it became. The hole in the shaft was sucking out the ship's air so fast that the resulting current was strong enough to push them along so they reached the hole in no time. In fact, once they reached the spot, the air was rushing past them so fast that Angel was more worried about finding a way to anchor herself in place so she wasn't dragged any further up the shaft.

“You okay?” Nicoli must have heard how hard she was breathing and thought she was worried about suffocating. "I know if feels like you're getting hit in the face by a cyclone, but if you turn your head to the side a little, your head will block the wind enough that you can draw a breath.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “What do you want me to do?”

The shaft was wide enough for limited movement and Angel saw Nicoli studying her face, as if gauging her composure. If he thought her voice sounded unusually tense, though, he didn’t comment on it.

“I need you to come closer and direct the light here so I can see where I’m welding. It won’t do us much good if I accidentally hit a tyrillium cable and blow us all to kingdom come.”

Against her better judgment, she crawled forward until she was wedged between Nicoli's legs. Feeling his muscled thighs on either side of her hips had her senses tripping down memory lane to the night they'd been together. Had it been only yesterday?

There was no way he couldn't feel the way her heart raced inside her chest but she hoped he'd assume she was claustrophobic and scared to death, which of course she was.

Trying not to think about where she was, Angel watched Nicoli work, moving the light occasionally when he progressed to a new portion of the plate. For a while, the sight of metal edges melting and fusing together distracted her. Nicoli’s ability with the torch was impressive, making the entire operation seem easy and effortless.

“There,” he said after finishing the last bit and shutting off his torch. “That should hold it until we can make it to the nearest space station for repairs. Brace yourself. I’m going to have the computer start up the thrusters while we’re in here to make sure they work. I don’t know about you, but I’d just as soon not have to crawl all the way in here again.”

Angel nodded, but remained silent.

“Computer, fire the rear thrusters.”

There was a moment of nothing. Angel could almost taste the anticipation. Then the thrusters roared to life, jolting the ship violently as it shot forward. Angel, slammed against the side of the shaft, lost her grip on the luminator and it went sailing through the air. Unable to turn easily in the narrow space, Angel could do nothing more than watch helplessly as it rolled out of view, taking the light with it. As the light faded, the walls of the shaft closed in.

Angel froze. The sound of her pounding heart grew so loud she could no longer hear Nicoli moving in front of her. She was alone, paralyzed by fear and trapped inside an all-too-familiar nightmare, one that had haunted her since childhood.

Chapter 13

“Angel?” Something was wrong, he could tell. Her breathing had become harsh and erratic. It seemed absurd to him that this woman who had braved Free Rebels and Harvesters might be afraid of the dark. And yet…

“Angel?” He spoke calmly, but again there was no answer. He wasn’t sure what to do. He reached down, hoping to comfort her, but when his hand touched her, she flinched and began to whimper.

“It’s okay. It’s only me. You’re safe. I promise you, you’re safe.” He tried to sound convincing as he inched his way closer to her in the shaft. The next time he touched her, she didn’t flinch, but the low whimpering sounds continued.

With effort, he maneuvered himself until he lay alongside her. It was a tight fit and they were wedged together, but that made it easier for him to wrap his arms around her. To his relief, she didn’t try to pull away.

“Angel, it’s okay. I'm with you and I'm going to get you out of here. You’re safe with me.”

His words were met with the sound of chattering teeth and he knew she was losing ground to her growing panic.

“Just concentrate on the sound of my voice. Everything’s fine.”

He kept murmuring words of reassurance, knowing that what he said wasn't nearly as important as his tone, so he kept that as soothing as he could, all the while holding her close.

Slowly, he felt her relax. How long they lay that way, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. It felt good to hold her. It felt right - and he knew that as soon as they were free of the shaft, he'd never again have this opportunity.

“Nicoli?” Her voice came softly, muffled from where her face pressed against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.

“Yes?”

“I want to leave. Please.”

“You got it.” He promised. “I'm going to slide past you so I can guide you out, but I'll be with you the entire way."

When he felt her nod, he worked his way down the shaft until he was behind her. Then grabbing her ankle, he gave it a gentle tug.

“Just move with me," he said, his words sounding unusually loud in the small space. We’ll go nice and slow.”

It seemed to take forever, with Nicoli stopping periodically to make sure she was okay.

"Not too much further now. The tunnel's getting lighter."

They reached the opening and as soon as he climbed out, he turned to help Angel by placing his hands around her ankles and pulling her toward him. When she was clear enough, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her down. Without releasing her, he turned her toward him so he could see her face.

She wouldn't look up at him, seemingly absorbed in her study of the floor. “Wow, that was embarrassing,” she said in a tone filled with self-condemnation.

“Don't worry about it. We all have our private demons."

"Maybe.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “If you don’t need me right now, I’d like to go back to my cabin. I’ll, uh, come relieve you on the bridge in just a little while.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. She started to walk off, but stopped after taking just a few steps. He watched as she seemed to struggle with herself. Finally, she turned to look back at him. “Thank you for, you know, your help.”

“No problem.” He watched her walk away.

After putting away the torch and other tools, Nicoli returned to the bridge. All systems were working. Well, working as normally as they could under the circumstances. He laid in a course for Delphi IV and, taking the controls, set a moderate speed out of the Darwin Zone.

Once they were safely away, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Angel.

“Everything okay?”

Nicoli glanced at Yanur as the older man walked in and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat.

“For now.” Nicoli turned back to the vast emptiness of space looming ahead of him and they fell into a companionable silence.

After several minutes had passed, Yanur said, "About what happened with Angel back there on the Harvesters' planet --"

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Excuse me?” Yanur sounded confused.

Belatedly, Nicoli realized Yanur had no idea what had happened between him and Angel back at the Rebirth Colony and this wasn't going to be a lecture about not taking advantage of innocent young women. At least, not yet. “Forget it. You had something on your mind?”

“Yes. An apology.”

Nicoli nodded. “All right. I accept.”

“Accept what?”

“Your apology.”

“Oh. No. You misunderstand me. I'm not apologizing to you for letting her undertake the dangerous task of restoring you to your body - not when she had proven herself to be capable and clearly the better choice between us.”

"Then you're apologizing for lying to me."

"No," Yanur said. "Knowing how Althusians view the role of women, you didn't leave me much choice. I knew you wouldn't agree so I made a strategic decision to omit certain bits of information. A military man such as yourself can surely understand such a strategy - and this is a military mission, is it not?”

Nicoli hated it when Yanur got this way. "If you're not apologizing for sending Angel to retrieve my body and you're not apologizing for lying to me, then what exactly are you apologizing for?"

"Nothing. The apology we're talking about is the one that you must make."

That surprised him. "What am I apologizing to you for?"

“Not to me," Yanur correct. "To Angel. For jumping all over her when she's saved your life - not once but three times by my count.”

For jumping all over her. It was an unfortunate choice of words because that's exactly what he'd done back at the Rebirth colony. The memory of it left him feeling guilty because while it had been necessary, he shouldn’t have enjoyed being with her as much as he had.

His guilt made him defensive and he lashed out at Yanur. “She wouldn't have had to risk her life with the Free Rebels if she hadn't stolen our ship. And as for what happened back on the planet? I'll have you know that she nearly died - twice. That's what you - we - let her walk into."

Yanur sighed. “But she didn't die - and more important, neither did you."

"I'm too tired to keep arguing with you," Nicoli said, setting the controls on autopilot. They were safely out of the Darwin Zone and he wanted to be alone to think.

Alone to brood.

Rising from the pilot's seat, he crossed to the open doorway.

“Nicoli.” Yanur stopped him. "It's not a bad thing for women to know how to fight and protect themselves - if that's what's bothering you."

Nicoli felt the last thread of his control snap. “My mother had those skills - and she paid for them with her life. Knowledge is not always power. Remember that."

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, Nicoli stepped out of the D-U feeling clean, but not refreshed. Irritation rode him like a gnat on a tiger’s butt. He didn’t know what to think of Angel. The situation would be so much simpler if she would behave like other women.

Then he wondered what other women he meant. The cold, hardened women in the Forces? They were well versed in combat.

Or was he thinking of the submissive Althusian women? Most of them were incapable of making a simple decision much less engage in a fight to the death. He couldn't possibly want Angel to be more like them.

The truth was that Angel was unlike any female he’d met.

Securing the towel about his waist, he tried to push her from his thoughts as he opened the closet. He was in Yanur's room because Angel was using his. He should have retrieved a change of clothes from his room before he undressed but he'd been too preoccupied to think of it. Now he needed a fresh change of clothes - because he wasn't putting the dirty ones back on - and the items hanging in Yanur's closet were too small.

He glanced at the clock. It had been about two hours since Angel had left him on the lower level. Surely by now, she was on the bridge. There was no reason he couldn't go to his cabin and grab a set of his clothes.

With that in mind, he left Yanur's cabin and headed for his own. He stopped outside the closed door and, as a precaution, knocked. When there was no answer, he palmed the access pad. The door whooshed open, leaving him staring into a familiar empty room.

Everything appeared as he’d left it. There was no reason for him to feel like an intruder, and yet he did. Irritated at himself, he crossed the room to the closet, barely conscious of the door closing behind him, and started searching for an outfit.

"What are you doing in here?"

Startled, Nicoli spun around at the sound of her voice, ready to remind her that she was the trespasser, but the words died in his throat at the sight of her.

She stood before him wearing nothing more than a white shirt. It was large on her and the hem reached the middle of her thighs. The fabric was soft and molded - a little too well - to the shape of her body.

"That's my shirt.” Was all he could think to say.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind. I left my only set of clothes on the planet and couldn't bring myself to put that Rebirth gown back on."

At the sight of her, all the frustration from the night before when he'd resisted taking advantage of her rose up with a vengeance. He looked away before she noticed the raw hunger of his gaze. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

He reached into the closet, grabbing the first outfit he found. When he turned to leave, Angel was still standing there, watching him.

“We’ll reach Delphi IV in about two hours.” He tried for a casual tone, but noticed that his voice sounded gruff. He cleared it and tried again. “I thought it might be nice to eat at the station there. They don’t have much in the way of amenities, but the food is better than what we’ll get out of the Cosmos-genie.”

Angel nodded. “Okay.”

"Unless you don't want to do that."

"No, that sounds fine."

"Okay, then.” Leave, he ordered himself.

Though in reality only a few steps away, the distance to the door seemed immeasurable. He forced himself to take a step. Then another. But the next step, which should have carried him past her, instead took him to her, so close, he felt her breath when she exhaled.

He thought she would back away, but she didn't.

Damn, but he wanted her. From the moment he’d seen her in the donor room, he’d wanted her. Last night, it had nearly killed him to hold her in his arms as she writhed from the pleasure he'd given her. He'd refused to take advantage of her when she'd been drugged.

Now there was no such excuse.

Raising his hand to her cheek, he looked into her eyes and saw the uncertainty. And something else. Something more primitive.

Slowly, giving her every opportunity to back away, he lowered his head. When his lips touched hers, he meant it to be a tender promise of things to come. Instead, the taste of her lips lit an inferno of need inside him that was not easily doused with one kiss. So he took another, and this one was neither gentle nor brief.

“Send me away, Angel.” He whispered hoarsely, when they broke for air. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to leave on my own.”

“Stay.”

It took a moment for the word to register, but when it did, it was like the breaking of a dam. With a hungry growl, Nicoli dropped his clothes on the floor and gathered her to him. He ravaged her mouth, forcing her to open to his exploration. When her arms stole around his neck, he leaned down without breaking the contact of their mouths and lifted her by the legs until she could wrap them about his hips.

He throbbed with wanting her and thrust himself against the juncture of her legs, only the fabric of his towel separating their bodies. Even that proved to be too much.

Nicoli could easily have released the towel and taken her against the wall, but drawing control from an inner strength, he carried her to the bed and gently set her down. With the fearful wonder of the innocent, she watched as he deftly loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor. Though he knew she’d seen him nude before, she stared at him as if for the first time. Perhaps her experience with men was limited or perhaps it was the particulars of their association that made her seem nervous. Whatever the reason, he didn't want to frighten her.

Please, God, help me go slowly.

With his hands, he spread her knees where she sat on the side of the bed and knelt before her on the floor. Cupping her face with his hands, he brought her to him and captured her lips with his, demanding from her all that he gave. Undoing the last few buttons of her shirt, he slipped his hands beneath the material, wanting to feel the satiny smoothness of her skin against his palms. He cupped the gentle swelling of her breasts and squeezed. At her gasp, Nicoli broke away to trail tiny kisses down along her throat, but did not stop there. The curve of a breast rubbed against his cheek, igniting a fire where it touched. He rubbed against it, enjoying the warm feel of her soft plumpness. When he reached the cool tautness of her nipple, he turned to lave it with his tongue until it hardened into a dusky pink pebble that he took into his mouth to suckle.

Tiny moans escaped Angel’s throat as he split his attentions between her breasts. He let a hand trail along the curve of her waist, down the flare of her hip to rest briefly against her thigh before moving to the delicate flesh between her legs. Already warm and moist, he parted her feminine folds with his thumb, searching for and finding the sensitive nub, which he began to stroke with slow, purposeful movements.

“Please, Nicoli,” she gasped, squirming beneath his touch.

“Soon, I promise,” he whispered, taking her mouth again with his. He slid the shirt off completely, then eased her back across the bed. Stretched out above her, he used his arms to keep from crushing her beneath his weight. Parting her legs with his knees, he positioned himself, letting his erection tease the damp folds of her cleft until she was damp and slick with moisture.

Then he entered. Slowly at first, because she was warm and tight. So tight. He couldn’t go far and had to pull back. She was wet with her own desire and he used her juices to coat his member before entering her again. His muscles trembled with the effort to go slowly, not wanting to rush their first time but not sure he could avoid it.

Her warmth hugged him and he pushed himself deeper - and then froze.

“What’s wrong?” Angel’s voice was a breathy whisper.

“You’re a virgin!” His voice cracked under the stress of not moving.

She gazed up at him with what looked like embarrassment. “So?”

“It changes things.” It took all of his self-control not to ignore the barrier and pierce it in search of his own pleasure. He had no idea where he’d find the control to just walk away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my sexual status would be such a turn-off.”

“A turn-off?” Was she crazy? “It's just, well, I didn't expect you to be a virgin."

"It's not like I've had a lot of time for sex," she said, sounding defensive. "Do you think we could maybe ignore my virginal state and continue where we left off?"

"On my planet, only a woman’s husband is allowed the honor of taking her virginity.”

“But we’re not on your planet.”

“No, we’re not. But your first time should be with someone special.”

Softly her words came to him. “It is.”

Almost afraid to believe his ears, he studied her face. “Angel, are you sure? It’s not too late to stop,” he lied.

A more honorable man wouldn't have asked. He would have pulled out and walked away. Nicoli, though, couldn't be that man. Not now. Not with this woman.

"I'm sure," she said, leaning up to place a kiss against his throat. The gesture dissolved the last of his resolve.

“Do you give yourself to me freely?”

“Yes.”

He lowered himself, gathering her close so he could whisper in her ear. “You do me great honor in bestowing this gift and I offer you my life in exchange. We are bound, one to the other, eternum.” He would never utter the words to the ancient ritual again. “This may hurt, but I promise it'll get better.”

He surged forward, breaking through the barrier of her maidenhead and whispered.

Angel held her breath as pain shot through her, bringing her perceptions into sharp detail. Nicoli filled her so completely she wondered that her body was able to accommodate his size. Though he held himself still, she felt the throbbing of his engorged member pulsing inside her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yes.” Was that it? She'd thought there'd be more to it, especially after that nonsense he'd uttered about giving his life in exchange for her virginity. Maybe the night at the Rebirth Colony had been harder on him than she realized.

Nicoli’s breathing was more strained than before and Angel surmised that this act had taken much out of him.

“That was, uh, nice.” She tried to sound enthusiastic, all the while thinking that she hadn't really missed much all these years of not having sex.

Some of her thoughts must have shown in her face, though, because Nicoli gave a most impolite snort, just before levering himself above her.

“Nice? I suggest you hang on.”

Before she had a chance to ask what he meant, he pulled back. With a sense of growing loss, she felt him sliding out. Then suddenly, he thrust forward and a rush of sensation shot through her. Before she had a chance to recover, he started to withdraw. With the next thrust, she felt the muscles of her abdomen tighten.

In. Out.

With each of his thrusts, the tingling between her thighs built.

In. Out.

Each time a little more forceful, a little faster so the building tension never had time to dissipate.

In. Out.

Sensations assaulted her body. The coolness of the sheets below her and the warmth of Nicoli’s body above her faded until all of her attention focused on where their two bodies joined.

In. Out.

She was wound so tight, surely her body could take no more.

In. Out.

Every nerve exploded. With stars bursting behind her closed lids, she gasped for breath and rode the wave of sensation, her consciousness seeming to transcend to another, ethereal plane of existence.

She was barely aware of Nicoli driving himself into her one last time before holding himself taut above her, a primal cry bursting from his throat.

Both remained still as the climax slowly burned itself out and a pleasant lassitude settled over them. Still joined, Nicoli rolled to the side, turning her so they faced one another. Pulling a sheet over them, he gathered her close and held her. Angel was glad for the anchor, because her thoughts were spiraling.

It had not been like anything she could have anticipated - and it broke her heart to think it would never happen again. She and this man had no future together. How could they?

A man who went around saving the universe didn’t have time for personal commitments. And if he ever did, Nicoli was the type to want a traditional marriage and a traditional woman.

Not someone who was a fugitive from their own planet and wanted by the law on several others.

Angel mentally shook herself. What was she even thinking? This was lust, not love. She would be smart to remember the difference between the two. Besides, as soon as they stopped on the space station, she was going her own way while Nicoli went on to Coronado.

The thought of leaving him depressed her and she allowed herself a moment of self-pity. Lying in his arms, she rested her head on his chest and enjoyed the feel of his arms about her, keeping her safe. She stayed that way until he fell asleep. Then, being careful not to disturb him, she climbed from the bed, showered and quickly dressed.

When he awoke alone, he would mistakenly think their lovemaking had meant nothing to her, as he was supposed to. Some lies were necessary, she thought as she walked out of the room and headed for the bridge. She only wished that after all these years, the lie-telling would come easier.

Chapter 14

Angel stepped onto the space station’s decking and looked around. The irony of her arrival here, at this point and time in her life, was not lost on her. The space station was still as dank and oppressive as she remembered, but it no longer frightened her as it had those many years ago when she’d first run away. After eight years of surviving on her own and piloting illegal goods, Delphi IV was just another independent station that attracted too much of the wrong element.

Right now, that suited her fine. She wasn’t planning to stick around long. She’d find out which ship was departing soon and be on it. It would have been easier to get the information she needed if Nicoli had allowed her to see to the repairs for the Icarus, but he’d insisted on doing that himself. Now she’d have to get the information some other way.

“There he is.” Yanur, standing beside her, pointed to the left where Nicoli could be seen walking toward them.

For a moment, Angel’s heart stood still. With or without clothes, he commanded attention. Head held high, he was a man used to being in charge. Even his stride exuded raw masculine strength.

“Shall we go eat?” He asked, coming to stand beside her. “It’ll take a couple of hours to repair the ship, so we have enough time to eat. There’s only one establishment open at this hour, a place called Flannigan’s. But I hear the food is good.”

“You two go ahead,” Yanur offered. “First, I want to see a man about some raw tyrillium for my medical equipment, and then maybe I’ll join you.”

The sound of crude laughter drew their attention to a nearby ship. The crew, appearing dirty and unshaven, disembarked and headed down the corridor.

“There’s a trustworthy looking bunch,” Yanur murmured. “On second thought, it might be good for someone to keep an eye on the ship. I think I’ll come back here when I finish.” He gestured to the comm-link pinned to the collar of his shirt. “I shouldn’t be gone long and I’ll buzz you if anything is amiss. You two have fun, but be careful.”

Angel and Nicoli watched the older man hobble along the corridor, then turned to go in the opposite direction, through halls dimly lit for the evening hour. The space station did not experience the rising and setting of the sun to mark its days, so the hall lights were adjusted instead. For Angel, the experience reminded her of walking through the back streets of Jupiter’s Zeta Colony. It was close to midnight and with the exception of the crewmen ahead of them, she and Nicoli seemed the sole occupants in the connecting hallways through which they passed. Only the subtle shifting of shadows suggested otherwise. Angel flexed her wrists, taking comfort in the familiar feel of her hand laser. In this remote part of space, there were no weapon prohibition laws.

Stepping inside Flannigan’s was like entering a Wunderland addict’s hallucinogenic trip through a virtual recreation of Earth’s Wild West era. A huge mirror covered the back wall and directly in front of it was a simulated wood bar, complete with bartender. Randomly distributed around the great room were small tables and chairs of the same simulated wood. But that’s where the Wild West resemblance ended. Neon blue, green, red and yellow veins of light formed intricate patterns in the floor, branching off to various sections of the room. Their reflections, projected back into the room by the mirrored wall, made the light patterns appear three-dimensional. At one time, the embedded light veins were used to guide the service 'bots. But modern technology had rendered the guidance veins of light obsolete. Still, they added atmosphere, giving the place a softer glow.

Taking the lead, Angel walked to a secluded table off to one side. From here, she could keep an eye on the entire room, and the entrance. It wasn’t that she anticipated trouble, but old habits die hard.

The other ship’s crew had already taken over a group of tables across the room and service “bots” were delivering their drinks. A group of women in skin-tight, low-cut jumpsuits emerged from a side door and wandered over to the crew. Angel watched in fascination as a few of the women left the gathering to sit by themselves on stools in front of the bar, leaving only the younger, more nubile women to associate with the increasingly rowdy men. Sex droids, Angel concluded. She’d been around enough bars and saloons to know that after years of professional service, only sex droids could look that young and “full of life.”

“Interesting,” Nicoli commented, noting the direction of her gaze.

“You find the sex droids interesting?” She didn’t like the sharp edge that accompanied her tone. It was none of her business if he enjoyed the sight, or company, of a sex droid.

He frowned. “What I find interesting is that only the sex droids remained. Makes one wonder if the men prefer droids over real women or whether the real women prefer not to service those particular men.”

“It’s late. Maybe they’re tired.”

“Yeah, tired of getting beat up.”

Angel studied the group of rowdies. “Maybe the men prefer the droids.”

“I doubt it. These men get off on power and control and it’s hard to dominate someone who bounces back from your worst beating looking good as new.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

He met her gaze, his brow furrowed. “I speak from observation.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who hangs out a lot in these types of places.”

“You don’t think so?” He gave her a dark, self-depreciating smile. What demons was he hiding from her?

Rather than answer him, Angel activated the menu and studied the holographic list of choices that materialized above their table. Her stomach was a little upset, nervous about the prospect of leaving, she guessed. But she had no idea when her next meal would come and she knew better than to not eat. She made her selection and then patiently waited until Nicoli made his before deactivating the menu.

When their drinks came via a 'bot, Nicoli raised his glass and offered a toast. “To another day.”

Angel touched her glass to his in silence and drank, pondering the meaning behind the toast. Was his toast from a soldier’s perspective or a lover’s? Her insides were tangling in knots trying to figure him out. Hell, she couldn’t even figure herself out.

“Am I under arrest?” The silence that greeted her words lingered for so long, she finally looked up to see if he’d even heard.

His expression was unreadable. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You’re a Colonel with the Security Forces. It’s within your authority to arrest me and keep me with you against my will, so I just want to know where we stand, that’s all.”

“No. You’re free to do as you please.” Nicoli looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he pressed his lips together and they fell into an awkward silence. When their food arrived, they ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Angel,” Nicoli finally said when they were both nearly done with their meals. “I want you to know that I'm here for you – any time. You don't have to fight your battles alone ever again.”

She lifted her head, chin up and met his probing look. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” She laid her fork down and slid out of the chair before he could see the moisture in her eyes. No one had ever offered to protect her before. “I’m going to get another drink. You want one?”

“Angel, I--”

“How about a nice Martian ale? Or a Nova Zinger?” She didn’t wait for him to choose, but turned and walked to the bar. She needed a chance to collect herself.

“Two Martian ales,” Angel told the bartender. She watched him pour the drinks. “Place seems a little quiet tonight. Thought you’d have more ships at dock.”

“That’ll be fifty credits.”

Angel had retrieved her money from the closet earlier and now pulled it out. With deliberate movements, she placed one hundred credits on the counter. Before the bartender could pick it up, however, she laid her hand on top of it. “I need a ride out of here. Tonight.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her, no doubt deciding whether or not she was serious. Or worth the effort. “It’ll cost you.”

She took another hundred credits and added it to the pile. “I’d be grateful.”

For a brief moment, they stared, each sizing up the other. Over the years, Angel had perfected her straight on, you-don’t-want-to-mess-with-me look. She didn’t have to wait long before the bartender nodded.

“There’s a ship leaving in an hour, docking station Alpha-Nine.”

Angel threw a quick glance over her shoulder at the group of rowdies. “That ship belong to them?”

“No. You don’t want to go with them. This is an old trading vessel. Take it and you might have half a chance of leaving here alive.”

Good enough for her. “Thanks.” She removed her hand, picked up the drinks and carried them back to the table.

“We need to talk.” Nicoli said after she sat down.

“About what?”

“About what happened earlier today.”

So much had happened earlier that day. Nicoli’s discovery that she was Michels, the episode in the airshaft, making love. Not love, she quickly amended. They’d had sex. That’s all it had been. There was nothing to talk about. “I have to go.”

“Where?” Concern etched his features.

“The D-U. I’ll be back.” Her gaze caressed his face, even as the lie fell from her lips, ripping at her heart. She couldn’t let him stop her.

His gaze roamed over her and she had the distinct impression he was memorizing her features. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” His velvety voice held a note of sadness. Already she missed him. How long would it take to forget him? Would she ever?

She stood to go, but his restraining hand stopped her before she could leave. “Be careful.”

She cocked her head to one side and faked a smile. “I’m only going to the D-U.”

“Yeah, I know.” His voice sounded emotionless.

She picked up her unfinished drink, downed the rest of its contents in a single swallow and set the glass back solidly on the table. With a last look, she turned and walked away. “Take care of yourself, Nicoli,” she whispered to herself, and almost didn’t hear Nicoli’s softly spoken parting words.

“Good bye, Angel.”

Knowing he watched her, Angel ducked into the D-U for females. She’d wait here a few minutes, then sneak into the kitchen and take the back exit. Outside, the sound of raucous behavior grew louder. That other ship’s crew had downed enough alcohol to float a free-trader. Angel decided to use the facilities while she waited and went into one of the stalls. The sound of the outer door opening was followed by several female voices.

“I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate those jerks,” the first woman said.

“Wish they’d reconsider the sex droids. I’ve been with these guys before, they like it rough."

“Did you see the one across the room, sitting by himself? He’s a looker.” A third voice spoke up.

“Yeah, for all the good it’ll do him.” It was the first woman again.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you hear Mason’s crew talking? He’s some kind of Colonel with the USP security forces?”

“How do they know that?”

“They’ve run into him before.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, well, it’s good news for us.”

“How so?” The third woman asked.

“Because tonight instead of beating on us for their jollies, they’re going to beat the you-know-what out of the colonel.”

The women kept talking as they used the facilities, but Angel had stopped listening. Nicoli was in trouble. When she heard the other women leave, she left her stall. Absently, she shoved her hands under the Supercleanze mist, then shook them dry. Opening the bathroom door, she looked out. Nicoli still sat at the table, but his attention seemed to be focused on the glass he held, oblivious to any danger.

Mason’s crew, on the other hand, seemed wound to a fevered pitch. Twelve of them, at least. There was no way Nicoli could take all of them. Angel looked at her watch. If she stayed to help Nicoli, she’d miss her only shot off the space station.

Angel slipped out of the D-U and walked away.

Nicoli watched Angel slip into the kitchen. A part of him wanted her to stay, but that would have been a mistake. She was a distraction he didn’t need, an emotional entanglement that could prove too dangerous. Taking a deep sigh, he raised his glass and downed the contents.

He looked at his watch. The repairs on the ship should be complete. He tossed some credits onto the table and stood. There was nothing to keep him here now.

Leaving Flannigan’s, the corridors seemed especially bleak as he walked them alone. Absorbed in his thoughts of Angel, he almost didn’t hear the man behind him until too late. He turned just in time to keep the knife blade from piercing his back, and drove himself into his attacker.

The man was no match for Nicoli’s strength and experience, and Nicoli soon dispatched him. Then he turned and found himself facing the rest of the crew that had been sitting in Flannigan’s.

“If you want money, I’ll give it to you,” Nicoli said, realizing the futility of trying to fight all of them.

“It’s not about money, Colonel Romanof,” one of them spoke. “This is strictly personal.”

Well damn.

He was in for the long haul. “Then let's do this. I don't have all night.”

His cavalier attitude riled the other men, as it was intended to do. An emotional fighter was a careless fighter and Nicoli needed all the advantage he could get.

Before the next man could advance on him, Nicoli bent to retrieve the unconscious man’s knife. His opponents seemed content approaching him one-on-one, or perhaps it was that they were too drunk to consider rushing him. He met the first man without hesitation, killing him. The second and third men he merely knocked unconscious. Each fight cost Nicoli energy and strength and, belatedly, he realized this had been their strategy.

When the fourth man fell, the remaining crew members moved forward. Resigned to his own death, he vowed to take as many with him as he could, but before they reached him, two of the front men screamed and fell to the floor, dead. The others hesitated as wisps of smoke curled up from the bodies.

“And you thought I was trouble,” Angel said, stepping forward to join him, her gaze never leaving the remaining men.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he growled, worried about how he could keep her safe when they were so outnumbered.

“Hi Angel, I’m glad you came back.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Or how about, thanks Angel, for saving my life. Again.”

“I’m not sure either of us will live through this,” he retorted. “At least before, I knew you were safe.”

At that moment, their attackers rushed forward, weapons drawn, fists flying. Angel fired, but couldn’t hit all of them.

Dispatching the man closest to him, Nicoli turned. One attacker, his hand clinched around something, had slipped behind them and now stood too close to Angel, who was busy with two other attackers. As the nearly transparent blade of the crystal knife arced through the air, Nicoli leaped forward.

The blade pierced his side, slowing him temporarily. As the attacker looked on, Nicoli pulled out the blade and thrust it into the man’s stomach, ripping upward as hard as he could. The man would not live to fight again.

Angel, having broken free of her two attackers, fired into the crowd. Two more fell dead while the other stumbled backward. Nicoli felt the first wave of nausea wash over him and knew he was losing too much blood. He had to get Angel to safety before he passed out.

“Let’s go,” he said, clapping a hand to his side. Together, he and Angel backed up.

“You’re hurt,” she observed, glancing at him. He knew he was covered in blood, but didn’t want to alarm her.

“It’s not serious,” he lied.

For every step back they took, their attackers moved forward. Yet, there was enough distance between them that as soon as he and Angel reached an intersecting corridor, they rounded the corner and ran.

The effort it took to maintain their pace quickly drained Nicoli of his remaining strength and his footsteps grew erratic. Darkness closed in around his vision, causing him to stumble. Angel grabbed his arm and draped it across her shoulders, holding it in place by taking hold of his hand. She holstered her laser, then wrapped the other arm about his waist, unaware that she grabbed his wounded side, sending pain lancing through him.

He leaned more heavily on her, forcing her to carry more of his weight. She was soon breathing fast and hard.

“Leave me,” he ordered, thinking only of her safety.

“Forget it.” Her words floated to him in a fog. “Just keep moving.” Angel released his hand long enough to slap the comm-link on her shirt. “Yanur, open the hatch. Hurry.”

They hit the docking bay at a pitiful run and reached the walkway leading to the hatch of the Icarus accompanied by the sounds of their pursuers’ footsteps close behind. Sparing a quick glance back, Nicoli was horrified to see that the closest man was directly behind them, his knife already raised for the blow.

Then suddenly, the man screamed and fell backwards as a black burn spot spread across his chest.

Turning, Nicoli saw Yanur standing in the open hatch, laser in hand.

“Hurry.” Yanur let fly with a few blasts over their heads into the oncoming group. Then he stood aside to let them board. “I’ve got it,” he shouted, slamming his fist on the button to secure the hatch. “Get us out of here.”

“Just hold on a little longer,” Angel pleaded as she lowered Nicoli into a passenger seat.

He waved his hand toward the pilot’s chair. “Go.”

She sat down and fired up the engines. It was unlikely that the men outside could breach the hatch door, but the sooner they left, the better.

“Delphi IV Cont...Icarus, requesting ...launch...” Angel’s voice faded in and out.

Nicoli felt the pull as Angel fed the forward thrusters and heard her short laugh a moment later.

“We made it,” was the last thing he heard before the darkness took him.

Chapter 15

Brother Joh’nan stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Scyphor and looked out over the landscape of his people’s new home. The first of Coronado’s two suns was just beginning its assent over the horizon, painting the sky in wispy shades of orange, red and purple. Memories from his host body recalled hundreds of similar such mornings, but for Brother Joh’nan, it remained a novel experience. One fraught with symbolism.

For decades, his people had suffered the results of their own curiosity, paying the price for careless experimentation and lack of foresight with their very future. When it seemed there would be no salvation, Brother Joh’nan had a revelation.

The answer had been in front of them the entire time, but their weakened mental faculties refused to grasp it. They had experimented on living bodies for years, taking organs from donors as needed to replace their own, thereby extending their lives. They had sold other donors and organs on the Black Market, to get the funding they needed for food and to continue their experiments. It had not occurred to them to inhabit a donor body, until almost too late.

Once the idea was presented, transferring the life essence of one of their own into a host body had been ridiculously simple. A further refinement of the transfer process made it possible for them to access the stored memories of the host body.

This, in turn, led Brother Joh’nan to the idea of taking over another planet, as well. Coronado, with its rich natural resources and cultural resistance to technology became the ideal location.

Following the selection of their new home, they began abducting key personnel from that planet, transferring the life essence of one of their own into the victim’s body and reintroducing them back into the world from which they were plucked. Tapping into the host body’s memories, the resident Harvester fit into his host’s life with seamless ease.

The ultimate goal to assume control of the planet would have been achieved more expediently had Brother Joh’nan simply taken over the High Counsel’s body, but the man was old and sick. So instead, Brother Joh’nan took the body of one of the High Counsel’s key advisors, one that was young and, presumably healthy.

He raised his left hand and tried unsuccessfully to make a fist. He hadn’t discovered the neurological disease slowly eating away at the donor’s muscles until after he’d transferred to the body and re-established himself. For now, he would stay in this body, but as soon as it was possible, he planned to transfer to another. This time, he vowed, the donor would be healthy.

A noise behind him signaled the presence of another.

“I assume you have news or you would not disturb me while I’m enjoying the suns rising.”

“Yes.” Brother Damon spoke from behind him, his voice laced with concern. “The last group of initiates failed to arrive as scheduled.”

“You contacted the Rebirth Colony?”

“No response. It’s like no one’s there. The little information I’ve gathered from the area trading vessels seem to point to a failure with the planetary computer system.”

Brother Joh’nan understood what he was being told. Without the computers, the main operating systems of the planet ceased to function. Without those, the little life remaining on their home planet would perish. In short, their planet was dead, as were all the family and friends who had remained behind.

He nodded, accepting the news. Such was the way of things. It would have been impossible to transfer everyone to the new planet, so those left behind would have died eventually as disease ate away their ability to function mentally and physically.

“And our plans to build a transfer center in the colony here on Coronado?”

“Proceeding as planned.”

Brother Joh’nan let out his breath in a relieved sigh. It was the end for some, but fortunately not for all of his people. Not the end for him. He returned his attention once more to the horizon.

It was the dawn of a new existence for his people.

Chapter 16

When they reached open space, Angel turned to check on Nicoli.

“Oh no.” She set the autopilot and rushed to his slumped form. Pressing her fingers to his neck, she felt for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak.

“Yanur!” Where had he disappeared to? He knew Nicoli was hurt.

“Come on Nic, hang on.” She ripped off one of her sleeves and held the wadded cloth against the wound in his side, which still oozed blood. She let the fingers of her free hand gently brush the side of his cheek. “Hang on, baby. You’ll be okay.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Where...?”

“Safe. Out in open space.”

“Hurt...you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

He tried to smile, but the effort seemed too great. “Good.” His eyes closed as his head fell forward.

“Nicoli!” She shouted, shaking him, afraid he’d died.

His eyes fluttered as he struggled to once again lift his head. His words were little more than a breath and Angel dropped her head close to his mouth to hear what he said. “Okay...to die.”

Angel felt the impact of his words like a blow to the gut. He had given up, accepted death. With a sick feeling, she realized he seemed to welcome it.

Well, it wasn’t okay with her.

“Yanur!” She looked around for the older man as she shouted, but still saw no sign of him. Damn. “Don't you die on me, Nicoli Romanof. You and I aren’t finished. That blade was meant for me. You had no right stepping in front of it.” Her tone was harsh with fear.

“You’re... welcome.”

“I didn't ask you to die for me.” She wiped furiously at her face, trying to dry tears that refused to stop falling. “Don’t die on me, Nicoli. Do you hear me? Nicoli? Don’t you die.”

“I think the people in the next quadrant heard you.” Yanur hurried onto the bridge carrying his black bag.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Yanur ignored her as he dug into his bag and removed a small device. Angel recognized the triage unit as he ran it a couple of inches above Nicoli.

“How bad?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“Bad enough.” Yanur put the triage unit back in his bag and pulled out a long cylindrical tube. He opened a compartment on one side, then reached into his pocket to remove several small greenish crystals. Angel recognized the raw tyrillium. “But I have no intention of letting him die if I can prevent it.” He popped the crystals into the tube, shut the lid and checked the gauge. Seemingly satisfied, he pressed a switch and the tube began to emit a low humming noise.

“Hold his shirt away for me,” Yanur instructed.

Angel looked at the blood-soaked shirt, matted against Nicoli’s side. Grabbing the front of it, she ripped it open, then gingerly peeled it back, exposing the wound.

Yanur held the tube centimeters above the raw edges of the wound, moving it slowly back and forth. Angel watched, amazed as the torn tissue started to knit itself together.

Nicoli’s breathing grew steadier, more peaceful. After a few moments, his eyes slowly opened. It seemed to take him a moment to focus, but then he saw her and gave her a weak smile.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, leaning over him, unable to keep from brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

“Like someone slashed me in the gut with a crystal blade.” His voice sounded weak as he looked down at his side, touching it.

“Are you in pain?” Angel asked.

“Not now.” He looked over at Yanur. “I guess you were able to get the tyrillium you needed.”

Yanur smiled. “Yes. I thought at the time the price was a bit steep, but I’ve since changed my mind.”

Nicoli moved in the chair and Angel put a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Getting up.”

“No. You can sit here for a while and rest. And you,” she turned accusing eyes on Yanur. “You can tell me more about your little gismo there.”

Yanur offered her the wand to examine. “It’s a Cellular Reparator.”

“What exactly did it do?”

“It re-knit the torn tissue and replaced damaged cells with new ones. Any toxins introduced by the knife’s blade were also eliminated.”

She stared at the instrument in awe. “What else can it do?”

“It’ll fuse broken bones.” He gestured to his leg, which Angel suddenly noticed was no longer broken.

“Immortality,” Angel breathed.

“No. That’s one thing it can’t do. It will heal wounds, even severe wounds. But there’s a limit to what it can do. If the damage is too great, it can’t heal all of it. And once someone is dead, well, it certainly can’t bring them back to life.”

“Handy tool to have around.” Angel handed it back to him with some reluctance. “How do you get one of those?”

“You don’t.” Nicoli said. “Yanur invented this one and it’s the only one of its kind.” He gave her a pointed look. “And we keep this one a secret just between the three of us. Understood?”

Angel scowled at him. “I can see you’re feeling better.”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I am feeling better. I think I’ll go take a shower and wash off this blood.” He stood up, Yanur at his side to offer support if it was needed.

When he was sure Nicoli wouldn’t fall, Yanur moved back a step or two. Nicoli turned to look at Angel. His face was still an ashen color, but the spark of life was back in his eyes. “Angel, there is one thing.” He gestured for her to lean toward him. When she was close enough to feel his breath warm her ear, he whispered. “Kiera you gave me the right to step in front of that blade earlier today when you gave me--" he paused and gave Yanur a quick glance, "--the other gift.” His lips pressed a kiss to her cheek. As she stared at him stupidly, he winked at her. Then he turned and followed Yanur off the bridge.

She watched them leave, her mind in a stunned state. When they disappeared from sight, she turned to sit in the pilot’s seat. She adjusted the controls, a happy warm glow blooming within her. Feeling better than she had in a long time, she flipped off the autopilot and felt the ship’s power in her hands. It was impossible to stop the smile from spreading across her face.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Nicoli reappeared on the bridge. Angel started to get up, but stopped when he sat next to her in the co-pilot’s seat.

“You keep the controls for a while.”

“Oh, okay. How’s your side?”

“Good as new.”

She looked over at him, skeptical.

“Okay, it’s a little tender.” He smiled. “Out of curiosity, what’s our course?”

“Coronado.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m surprised. I figured you had us headed in the opposite direction.”

“I did,” she admitted. “But I knew you’d turn us around as soon as you could, so I saved you the effort.” She paused a second. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about going?”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

She’d known that would be his answer.

“Tell me why you don’t want to go. Maybe if I understood, I could help you.”

It was tempting. She didn't think Nicoli could do anything to help her but it would be nice to finally share the story with someone.

“You were right,” she said. “Back in the donor room, when you asked if I was from Coronado, I never answered you. Well, I grew up there. It’s not like Earth or any of the other united planets in the system. Technology is tolerated, but only to the extent necessary to permit limited trade with other planets. Towns and colonies are grouped into Regions. Ruling Houses control the Regions and problems between the houses are settled through war. The largest and most powerful is the House of Scyphor.

“It's a dictatorship where equality between the genders is a foreign concept. Women must rely on men for everything from food and shelter to protection. A woman without protection has no rights; she’s an easy target. Most women whose husbands and fathers are killed in battle seek protection in other households. Virgins usually find husbands to take them. Women who are no longer virgins are lucky to find jobs as servants in another household. Those not so lucky become colony whores, living off handouts from the men who use their bodies. There’s no such thing here as casual or premarital sex. Rape is punishable by death, but only because it represents a desecration of another man’s property, not because a woman was violated. Most marriages are for political alliance, not for love.” She avoided Nicoli’s eyes, uncertain of his opinion on such matters. Would he find the Coronadian way as abhorrent as she? When he said nothing, she continued.

“It’s all about who has the power. Of course, growing up as a child, I never knew it could be any other way. I was happy. I loved my parents and they loved me. Despite it being an arranged marriage, my parents grew to love one another. My father was more liberal than most men. He raised me to believe I was as good as the next person, even if the next person was a male. He secretly taught me to use the Coronadian warring blade and how to fight. He wanted me to be able to protect myself, if ever I needed to. He was ahead of his time and while his views were popular with the women, the men despised him.

“My mother’s father was one of those men. A man with political aspirations, he found my father to be a threat. So he plotted against him.”

“How?” Nicoli’s furrowed brow and scowling mouth showed his concern.

“He encouraged another man’s attentions towards my mother. That man decided he wanted to marry my mother. So he Challenged my father.”

“What is that?”

“The Challenge is a fight with Warring blades. It’s a time-honored tradition for settling disputes. The victor would get my mother.”

“Who won?”

“The other man.” There was a moment of silence before she went on. “My father died in that fight.”

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

“On the day of my father's funeral, my grandfather and my mother's new husband were called away to war with another House. My mother and I walked through town following the service. An Aruebian Air Freighter had landed to do some trade. We’d never seen one that close and we were momentarily distracted from our pain. Curious, we approached it to get a better look. I'm not sure when the thought first sprouted, but almost by silent agreement, we went aboard to look around. My mother found a small closet and told me to hide.

“She said we were leaving, but first she needed to get money. She thought she could get it faster by herself. Her father was a wealthy man and she knew where he kept a stack of USP credits hidden. She would go to his house, take the money and come back before the freighter took off. Then we would start a new life together – free from my grandfather and his plans for us. For me.” Angel paused, her thoughts taking her back to that day.

“What happened?” The warmth in Nicoli’s voice brought her back to the present.

“My mother never came back.” Angel spoke softly, as if she still couldn’t believe what happened.

“She abandoned you?” He sounded incredulous.

Angel shook her head. “She was killed.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know specifics,” she rushed on to tell him. “My grandfather’s house was attacked. No one survived. I overheard some of the freighter’s crewmen talking about it. They were eager to take off.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“I was fifteen years old. I haven’t been home in eight years.”

“How long did you stay in the closet?” From his tone, she knew he was thinking of her behavior in the airshaft earlier.

“Until we reached Delphi IV. Then I found another ship and hid again.”

“And now you’re afraid that if you go back to Coronado-”

“My grandfather will recognize me and never let me go.”

Nicoli looked thoughtful. “That was eight years ago. He may not even be alive.”

“I’d just as soon not take the chance of finding out.”

Nicoli sat facing forward, staring out into space. After a moment he spoke again, his tone serious. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Startled at the conviction in his voice, she turned to look at him. “Thank you. But we both know there are no guarantees in life.”

* * * * *

Three hours later, they reached Coronado. Nicoli established communications with the largest power head on the planet, the High Counsel of the Ruling House of Scyphor. He hoped to convince the man that the Harvesters were a threat, but was concerned that any culture so technologically backwards might not believe that a race of aliens was capable of taking over the bodies of their friends and loved ones.

It had been agreed that Angel would remain aboard the Icarus with Yanur while Nicoli was away. The two would monitor his whereabouts and conversations through hidden comm-links.

“Okay, I’m taking her down.” Angel made adjustments to the thrusters and using the guidance stick, angled the ship downward. Soon they were cruising just above the surface of the planet, slightly above tree level.

Nicoli sat next to Angel as she flew and let his gaze study her face.

“Stop it,” she said.

“What?”

“Stop looking at me. I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“I mean it, Nicoli. You’ve got enough to worry about. Don’t trust anyone. No one. Especially not the High Counsel.”

He smiled at her indulgently, tickled that she cared enough to warn him.

“Stop smiling.” Angel sounded exasperated. “If you get yourself into trouble, I probably can’t help you here.”

“I’ll be careful.”

A few minutes later, they landed in a field near the High Counsel’s palace and a contingent of guards was sent to escort Nicoli inside. Angel stayed on the bridge while Yanur walked him to the hatch.

“Testing, testing.” Nicoli spoke in a regular tone.

Angel joined them a second later. “I heard you loud and clear. We’ll take turns monitoring you. If something goes wrong, just say the word.”

“Okay. But if something happens, let Yanur come. You,” he pointed a finger at her, “stay in the ship and out of trouble.” With that, he left.

* * * * *

“Colonel Romanof. It is a pleasure to meet you.” The High Counsel of the House of Scyphor rose from his massive desk, walking around it to meet Nicoli halfway across the room. He was an older man, mid-seventies by Nicoli’s estimate. Age had taken its toll on the man’s once muscular physique, but he still stood tall and proud. They shook hands, each testing the pressure of the other man’s grip and Nicoli found his well-matched. Both men smiled.

“Your reputation is known throughout this galaxy and the next.” The older man waved a hand, dismissing the guards who still stood at the back of the room. They turned and left, closing the door behind them.

The High Counsel offered Nicoli the chair in front of the desk, then returned to his seat on the opposite side.

“Now, tell me what brings you all the way across the universe to see me.”

“High Counsel--”

“Gil’rhen, please. My friends call me Gil’rhen. I would like to think we could be friends, you and I.”

The man’s overt friendliness made Nicoli leery, but he acknowledged the man’s request by nodding his head. “Are you familiar with the race of aliens known as the Harvesters?”

“Vaguely, yes. They kidnap residents from various planets and then sell the bodies on the black market, don’t they?”

“Yes. My most recent mission was infiltrating their operations.”

The High Counsel nodded his approval. “I’m glad to see the USP taking action.”

“Actually, the USP did not sanction my mission, initially. I acted on my own.”

“By yourself?”

“With the two members of my crew.”

“Really? What was the purpose of your mission? Reconnaissance?”

Nicoli waited a heartbeat before answering. “Annihilation.”

The High Counsel’s expression changed from one of bored politeness to avid interest, tinged with respect. He leaned forward in his seat. “Three men against a race of Harvesters.” He spoke thoughtfully, as if considering the different strategies. “And what was the outcome of your mission?”

“I believe we were successful. I’ve since notified the USP and they will send troops to handle any survivors.”

“Excellent. Wonderful.” He smiled and Nicoli sensed he was witnessing an old warrior’s empathetic thrill of victory against a monumental adversary.

“Gil’rhen, I didn’t come here to brag about my exploits. I’m here because I’ve discovered the Harvesters’ plan to take over another planet." He paused for emphasis. "Your planet.”

For a moment, the High Counsel stared at him, open-mouthed. “No. That can’t be right,” he sputtered. “You are mistaken.”

“I am confident of my information.”

The High Counsel studied Nicoli’s face, no doubt wondering if he could trust what this stranger told him. “If what you say is true, then I want them stopped.”

“I agree, but first we must find them.”

***

“Ready for a break?” Angel asked, walking onto the bridge to relieve Yanur. He had been monitoring Nicoli’s conversation with the High Counsel for almost an hour and Angel could fight her curiosity no longer.

“Absolutely.” He pulled out the earplug and handed it to her as he stood up, letting her take his spot in the pilot’s seat. “I need a nap.”

“So, how’s it going? Any problems?”

“Not really.” Yanur yawned and stretched. “At first, the High Counsel didn’t seem to believe him, but when Alex told him about the Harvester leader being someone in his palace, he started to take it seriously.”

“Okay. I’ll take it for awhile.”

Yanur waved a hand, too busy yawning to speak. He walked from the bridge, leaving Angel to kick back in the chair and put in the earplug.

“...anything unusual in the last several months?” Nicoli was asking.

“No. But then, I don’t get out as much as I used to. I leave most of the travel to my advisors.”

Angel stopped listening to the words for a moment and concentrated on the sound of the High Counsel’s voice. It had been eight years since she’d heard it, but she would have recognized it had it been a thousand. The polite, knowing responses, spoken in rich, dulcet tones that belied the harsh nature of the man, transported her back in time. Once again she heard that same rich, calm voice telling her of her father’s death.

The thrum of his voice was interrupted by a dry, grating cough, breaking the spell. Realizing she’d let herself get caught up in bad memories, she mentally shook herself and focused on the current exchange between the two men.

“I’m not familiar with your government,” Nicoli said. “Perhaps you could explain it to me.”

“Certainly. What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with the basic framework. You are the primary ruling body, is that correct?”

“For the Southwest region, that’s correct. Each region has their own Ruling House.”

“But yours is the largest?”

“Correct. We are located on the planet’s largest continent.”

“Which means the Cerian Mountains fall under your domain.”

“Yes...”

“So, in essence, you control all of the natural tyrillium deposits on the planet.”

There was a moment of silence before the High Counsel spoke. “I see that you are a thorough man, Colonel Romanof. You have done your research.”

“I’m not the threat, Gil’rhen. The Harvesters are. But it’s important for you to realize that if I have this information, so must they. If you were going to take over a planet, wouldn’t you take over one with the greatest potential for future power and influence? As the USP’s other tyrillium resources become depleted, Coronado stands to gain much.”

After a moment, Angel heard the High Counsel’s mumbled agreement.

“Who else lives here at the palace? You mentioned advisors earlier.”

“Yes. I have three advisors who have taken on more of my responsibilities lately,” the High Counsel said thoughtfully. “But if you’re thinking that one of my advisors could be a Harvester, you’re mistaken. It’s simply not possible. I’ve known these men for years. One of them practically grew up here.”

There was a pause before Nicoli continued. “You said that your family has been ruling for many generations?”

“Yes. The High Counsel position is passed down from father to son.”

“So, in the event of your death, your son becomes the new High Counsel?”

“No.” Angel detected bitterness in the High Counsel’s tone. “My son died thirty-four years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicoli said. “Then your grandson?”

“No, I don’t currently have a grandson.”

“Then who is your successor?”

No one, Angel thought with satisfaction. Then cocked her head to the side. What had the High Counsel said?

“I have a daughter, though she is very ill right now...”

Angel stopped listening, her mind locked on a single realization. The High Counsel’s daughter was alive! Could it be true?

She tore the plug from her ear and rushed from the bridge. She didn’t bother to tell Yanur what she was doing – he would only try to stop her. She rushed to her cabin and dug through the closet. She needed to get into the palace and find her mother, but dressed as she was, she wouldn't make it three meters from the ship.

Pulling four of Nicoli’s white shirts from the closet, she pulled one over her own shirt. The other three, she tied around her waist to form a rough skirt. From a distance, it might be mistaken for a dress. She had no intention of getting close enough for anyone to know differently. About to leave, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her short dark hair was sure to stand out in a region where nearly everyone was blonde. Taking a towel from the D-U, she wrapped it about her head, turban-style. She took another critical look at her attire. Up close, she looked ridiculous, but it would have to do.

The few guards left to watch the ship stood by the front hatch, so Angel walked to the back and exited through the smaller rear access door. She closed it behind her, but couldn't lock it. Then, she carefully hurried away from the ship and out into the backfields.

Once safely out of sight, she found a tree. She briefly considered waiting for Nicoli to help her, but dismissed the idea. He couldn't know her true identity. It would only complicate matters, but there was no way she was leaving this planet without her mother.

Her mother was alive! After eight years of believing she was dead, Angel wanted nothing more than to race into the palace and find her. That would be playing into her grandfather's hands, though, so she settled herself against the tree to wait.

When darkness fell, she would join the workers as they returned from the fields. Hidden in the crowd, no one would notice her. Once she was safely in the courtyard, it would be easy enough to slip inside the palace.

Chapter 17

Nicoli boarded the Icarus feeling a sense of accomplishment. While the High Counsel obviously found it difficult to believe that his planet was being overtaken by Harvesters, he had nevertheless invited Nicoli and his crew to attend that evening’s banquet, at which time Nicoli could observe all the members of the High Counsel’s staff and household for himself. Later, Nicoli and the High Counsel would meet to compare notes.

Nicoli’s good feeling lasted until he reached the bridge and found Yanur, pacing back and forth.

“Is she with you?” Yanur asked, his voice heavy with concern.

“Who?” Nicoli looked around the bridge as dread settled in the pit of his stomach. “Where’s Angel?”

“Gone.”

“What?” Nicoli stepped forward. There were no signs of a fight on the bridge and Yanur appeared unhurt. “What happened? Were you boarded? Was there an attack?”

Yanur hung his head, shaking it. “No, no. I don’t know what happened. When I left her, she was sitting right here, listening on the comm-link to your conversation with the High Counsel. I went to take a shower and rest for a minute. When I came back to the bridge, she was gone. The front hatch was locked from the inside, but the back access door has been opened.” Yanur wrung his hands together. “If it had been forced open from the outside, the alarms would have sounded.”

“Have you searched the ship for her?”

Yanur nodded.

“Did you see any signs of a struggle? Any blood?” Angel wouldn’t let herself be abducted without putting up a fight. His heart clinched at the thought of Angel being hurt.

“No, nothing. In fact, everything looks the way it always does.”

Nicoli searched the ship himself, looking for signs of a forced entry or struggle. After finding none, he was left to face the only possible conclusion.

Angel had left of her own free will.

She had left him.

Again.

He tried not to think of it in those terms, but somehow, once the thought formed, it wouldn’t be ignored.

He shook himself mentally. He’d better forget about Angel and start focusing on his mission.

“We’ve been invited to dinner. You might want to change into something less casual.”

He left the bridge, intending to prepare for the evening’s activities, but stopped the moment he entered his cabin.

Looking around, he gave a short derisive laugh. The very idea that he could forget Angel was ludicrous. Every time he pulled clothes from the closet, he’d see the image of her wearing his shirt. As he changed into more appropriate attire, his gaze fell on the bed where they'd made love.

The memories assaulted him until he thought he might go mad. When he returned to the bridge, he found no relief; her essence was everywhere, throughout the ship.

Squaring his shoulders, he took his emotions in hand. When Yanur joined him a few moments later, he was focused again on the mission.

“We’ve been invited to dine with the High Counsel tonight, as his honored guests. It’ll give us a chance to study the members of his staff and see if we can discover which ones might be repossessed Harvesters.”

“Can we trust the High Counsel?”

“I don’t think we trust anyone.”

Yanur’s face temporarily brightened. “I finished the anti-toxin pills. Maybe this would be a good time to test them out. Just in case the food is poisoned.”

Nicoli smiled at the older man’s enthusiasm. “Bring them.” Over the years, Yanur had saved his life many times over, with his various medical concoctions and scientific inventions.

“And Angel?”

He looked over at his friend and knew they both would miss the feisty young woman who had come so abruptly into their lives.

“She’s made her choice.”

* * * * *

Darkness finally came and Angel slipped easily into the throng of workers returning from the fields. If the workers found her attire bizarre, they were either too tired or disinterested to say anything.

She traveled unnoticed into the courtyard and as the group began to disperse, each headed to their separate homes, Angel walked around to the side of the palace. Not many people knew about the garden entrance.

She opened the door and looked into the hallway. She startled a passing servant who gave her a curious look, but quickly moved on. With the rest of the hall empty and quiet, Angel stepped inside. The tiled flooring hadn’t changed much in eight years, but the hall looked different. The artwork on the walls had been changed and the hall itself no longer seemed as big as it had in her youth. These observations were made on an almost subconscious level as Angel focused on finding the correct room.

Keeping a constant vigil lest she be discovered, she turned down first one hallway then another. Would it be the same room, she wondered?

Then suddenly, she turned the corner and there it was. The door stood closed and Angel approached with caution. Would she be there? And if so, would she remember Angel? Worse thoughts crowded in. Would she hate Angel for leaving?

Afraid to find out, she refused to turn around.

She pressed her ear to the door and listened. After a few moments, when she’d heard nothing but silence, she tested the door handle and found it turned easily.

She opened the door a crack and paused. No alarms sounded, so she pushed it open a little further and walked in. The room appeared empty and disappointment hit her. She had felt certain her mother would be here. She decided to wait, in hopes that her mother would soon return.

Looking around, she saw that the room hadn’t changed. It looked exactly as she remembered and it made her want to cry. The love she’d felt in this room, she’d not felt since she’d left. She walked over to the dresser, picking up each familiar item that sat there, silently greeting them as an old friend.

At first she didn’t see her, the room was dimly lit and despite the warmth of the day, many blankets were piled on the bed.

“You’ve come for me,” a soft familiar voice said. “I knew one day you would.”

Angel whirled around and focused on the woman, now visible beneath a mound of blankets. Though she looked drawn and weak, she was exactly as Angel remembered her every time she closed her eyes. With a small cry of delight, Angel rushed to the woman’s side. “Mother!”

Kneeling beside the bed, Angel wrapped her arms around the frail figure. Tears coursed unnoticed down her cheek as she laid it against her mother’s. “I thought you were dead. I never would have left you…”

“Angel?” A gentle hand at her shoulder pushed her back. Angel looked down into her mother’s face as it studied her own. The voice trembled as she spoke. “Angel, my sweet Angel.” She laid the palm of her hand against Angel’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to kill you. How afraid you must have been when the freighter was attacked. Oh Angel, I’m so sorry.”

What was her mother talking about? “Mother, it’s me, Angel. I’m alive. I’ve come to get you out of here.”

Her mother’s glassy eyes seemed to shift in and out of focus while her lips formed a tremulous smile. “Death is not so bad if it means we are together again.”

Welcoming death, what was this? Her mother was spouting nonsense. She laid a hand against her mother’s forehead and felt the fever. Her mother was suffering from delusions, thinking her daughter was a ghost, sent to retrieve her upon her death.

“Mother, it’s me, Angel. I’m really here. I got off the freighter at Delphi IV. I wasn’t on it when it was attacked.” She stroked her mother’s cheek. “Please believe me.” What illness did her mother have? How serious was it?

Her mother’s eyelids fluttered closed again, a small smile on her lips.

Angel looked around the room. She’d been gone from the ship too long and needed to get back, but there was no way she was leaving without her mother. She had done that once, years ago, and she was not doing it again. When she left Coronado, her mother would be with her. She would just have to carry her,s there was no other option.

Her mother was a dead weight, drifting in and out of consciousness. It felt disrespectful, draping her mother over her shoulder like a sack of vegetables, but there was no other way for Angel to carry her.

Once again, Angel checked the hallway to make sure it was empty before stepping out. Progress was slow and with each step, her burden, and her frustration, grew. She knew she’d never reach the ship.

Which is why, when she finally reached the garden entrance and stepped outside to find a contingent of guards waiting for her, she wasn’t surprised.

“So returns the prodigal child,” one of the guards said, stepping forward. He gave instructions for two of his men to take Angel’s mother and carry her back into the palace.

Angel gave her mother over without a fight, then turned to face the guard. “Hello, Herrod. Still doing his dirty work?”

The guard called Herrod did not rise to her bait. Instead he gave her a knowing smile. “He will be pleased to know you’ve returned.” Another gesture of his hand and two more guards stepped to either side of her. “And you’ve chosen a particularly interesting dress for the occasion.”

Angel felt herself blush. She pulled off the turban and undid the shirts at the waist, letting them all fall to the ground. Then she peeled off the shirt she wore. A woman in men’s clothing would be frowned upon, but she wasn’t interested in respecting their customs. If an opportunity to escape presented itself, she didn’t want to be hampered by the makeshift dress.

When she looked back at Herrod, he smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that made her wish she had on more clothes – or better yet, was carrying an assault cannon. He seemed pleased with her discomfort and moved closer so he could speak to her without the other guards hearing.

“An’jel, you have grown into a beautiful woman.” He walked slowly around her, letting her feel his eyes roam over her body. He stopped behind her, close enough that his breath brushed against her hair when he spoke. “Unfortunate hair color, but I suppose it'll grow out. Tell me,” he whispered, “are you still a virgin?”

Angel whipped about to face him, barely controlled fury in her eyes. “Stay away from me, Herrod.”

Putting a finger to the side of his chin in an imitation of deep thought - Angel was sure he was incapable of the real thing - he studied her. “I think after all these years, you’re not a virgin anymore. Maybe you’re married.” He made a show of looking around. “But I don’t see a husband, do you? No husband. No virginity. I guess that makes you a whore, doesn’t it, An’jel?”

Angel ignored his taunt, turning to face him as he circled her, because she didn’t trust him.

“Are you a whore, An’jel?” He made the word sound as filthy as he could. “Will you beg men in the streets, offer them your body in exchange for a crumb of food? Sleep with them just to have the warmth of a real bed?” He stopped walking. “Perhaps I should find out what sweets you have to offer a man. If I find you pleasing, I’ll keep you for myself.” He reached out his hand as if to touch her face.

“Touch me and you’re a dead man,” Angel said, pleased that she managed to keep her tone so even, despite the rapid beating of her heart.

His hand stopped midair, then fell to his side as he laughed. “Am I supposed to be afraid of you?”

“No.” Angel smiled. “You’re supposed to be afraid of him, because if he finds out you raped me and took my virginity, he’ll kill you.”

Herrod’s laughter stopped and the smile faded to a face gone red with anger. “If I take your virginity, then I can claim the right to be your husband. And as such, I will be the next High Counsel.”

Angel’s laughter was genuine. “Do you really envision yourself to be his choice for successor? He’d probably have you killed before dinner – a minor inconvenience.”

“I think not. I am the only male blood relation the High Counsel has left.” Herrod countered between clinched teeth.

“Your mother was a whore your father experimented with to prove he was a man. But he was weak and killed himself after the High Counsel found him in his lover’s bed. His male lover. And you think the High Counsel will openly claim you as blood? You’re not even good enough to be his advisor; you’re a security guard.”

She’d pushed him too far and didn’t duck fast enough to avoid the blow to her face when it came. She fell back, stunned, eyes watering. But she lifted her head to face him. She’d gotten to him, broke his control. He’d lost and she’d won - and she wanted him to know.

The other guards pressed closer and Angel knew that if he came at her again, there would be dissension in the ranks. They reported to Herrod, but they feared the High Counsel.

Herrod stared at the guards and for a moment, she wondered what he would do.

“Bring her,” he ordered, giving her a look that promised more between them.

“Where are you taking me?” She dared to ask as he walked off, not knowing what answer she hoped to hear. Either he didn’t hear, or didn’t care to tell her.

He disappeared around a corner and Angel had no choice in whether she followed or not as the guards tightened their hold on her arms and led her forward.

* * * * *

Nicoli and Yanur were ushered into the main banquet room of the palace. A long table stood along the far wall, topped with food and drink. Men in formal Coronadian dress stood around, visiting with one another. Nicoli let his gaze travel across the room, and though he didn’t expect to see Angel, he was nevertheless disappointed when the only women present were servants.

“Colonel Romanof, I’m glad you could make it.” The High Counsel stepped from the crowd, extending his hand in greeting. Behind him, two men stood patiently attentive. They wore ceremonial dress similar to the outfit worn by the High Counsel, with tunics made of obviously high quality fabric and adorned with the House of Scyphor emblem, a large black bird in flight. Below the tunics, fitted slacks were tucked into boots and warring blades were strapped about their hips. Nicoli was struck with the thought that though the outfits seemed ceremonial, they were well suited for easy movement, or fighting, if need be.

“High Counsel.” Nicoli began, pausing when the old man wagged a reprimanding finger in the air. “Gil’rhen,” he quickly amended. “Thank you for inviting us on such short notice. It is an honor to be here.”

“I would like to introduce you to two of my advisors.” The High Counsel gestured to the men standing beside him. “This is Rianol D’Wintre and Pualson Metters.”

Nicoli exchanged handshakes with the two men, studying each closely as he did. Both were near his own age, and as typical Coronadians, both tall, blond and with a warrior's physique.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” D’Wintre said. His ready smile was smooth and easy. “I’ve heard much about you.” His manner seemed genuine.

The other one, Pualson, seemed less comfortable, but still extended his hand in greeting. “A pleasure, Colonel.”

“Thank you.” Nicoli politely acknowledged their words. “And allow me to introduce Yanur Snellen, crew member and good friend.”

Yanur shook hands with all three men and they exchanged a few words of greeting.

“Didn’t you say you had two members to your crew?” The High Counsel asked, looking around the room, presumably for the errant crewmember.

“Yes. I thought it best to leave her aboard my ship for now,” Nicoli lied.

The High Counsel looked at him quickly. “A woman?” He nodded then. “Of course. A servant.”

“No. Not a servant.”

The High Counsel’s expression turned smug and knowing. “Of course.”

Nicoli wasn’t sure he liked the suggestion inherent in the man’s words. The thought of Angel out there alone swept through his mind. Despite the fact that he didn’t entirely trust the High Counsel, Nicoli considered enlisting the man’s help in finding her, just to make sure she was okay. Before he could make up his mind, the big double doors to the chamber opened and a guard hurried in.

He went directly to the High Counsel and whispered something in his ear. The High Counsel’s face became animated as he moved off to the side and murmured something in return. Then the guard hurried back out the door.

By this time, everyone in the room had grown quiet, no doubt speculating on the situation. The doors opened again and several more guards entered. The guests crowded forward, obstructing Nicoli’s view. A short distance from him, Yanur’s face turned an ashen white.

With a mounting feeling of trepidation, Nicoli pushed his way through the gathered crowd until he could see. And then he felt his own face drain of color.

Angel stood, clutched between two guards, looking more defiant than scared. Her cheek was red where someone had hit her and the sight of it made Nicoli’s blood boil. Someone would pay for that, he vowed.

He moved forward at the same time the High Counsel did. The older man’s face had paled and he stared at Angel as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Are you all right?” Nicoli asked as he moved to stand beside her.

Neither Angel nor the High Counsel seemed to notice him, their attention focused on each other.

“I never thought to see you again, An’jel.” The older man spoke quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. “Welcome home.” He nodded once to the guards, who released their grip on her and stepped back.

Nicoli saw her chin rise a notch as she squared her shoulders and met the High Counsel’s eyes.

“Hello, Grandfather.”

The crowd stood in absolute silence as they absorbed the announcement. Nicoli shook off the fleeting feeling of betrayal. He wished she had confided in him, but after meeting her grandfather, he understood her need to keep her secrets. But now that he was here, he couldn’t help but wonder what other surprises lay ahead.

As if in answer to his question, a commotion began in the back of the room. Acting in concert, the gathered crowd split apart, like the Red Sea parting, opening a path between them. A man appeared, moving forward with a calm, confident air. Nicoli judged him to be near to his own age, with similar height and build. The ceremonial outfit he wore was unlike the advisors’ outfits. As he drew closer, Nicoli saw that it was identical to the High Counsel’s.

“Oh no.”

Hearing her quick intake of breath, Nicoli glanced sharply at Angel in time to see her eyes widen.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered. “Who is that?”

“My husband.”

Chapter 18

Angel felt Nicoli’s silence like a physical blow. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, wishing she had time to explain.

“Welcome home, wife.” His voice was like warm honey, dripping with sincerity, and he stared at her with a possessiveness that startled her. His smile transformed an already handsome face to one of such stunning masculine beauty, it took Angel a moment to compose herself.

She could not allow herself to fall into Gil’rhen’s trap just because the man he’d appointed as his successor and her husband was attractive. A pawn was a pawn, no matter how enticing the other game pieces appeared.

“I am not your wife.”

A gasp went up from the crowd at her announcement. The warm light in the Counsel-elect’s eyes grew cold and menacing, causing Angel to take an involuntary step closer to Nicoli.

“Do not be afraid of me, An’jel. We will suit each other well, you and I. For the last several years, I have followed, and admired, your exploits as a galactic courier. You are bright and intelligent, as well as beautiful.”

His speech, meant to put her at ease, had the opposite effect. “What do you mean, you’ve followed my exploits for the past several years?”

It was the High Counsel who answered. “You didn’t think that I would just let you run away, did you? My contacts on Delphi IV spotted you when you arrived. I would have brought you home immediately, but the war had started and I felt you would be safer off the planet. So I dispatched guards to watch over you, make sure you were safe."

“No, no.” Angel shook her head, absorbing his words through the ringing in her ears. Her whole life! He’d known where she was, been watching her, the entire time. Not once had she ever been free of him. She’d been living a lie and never once suspected the truth.

“The whole time?” She wasn’t aware she’d spoken aloud until her grandfather chuckled.

“Up until a couple of weeks ago. We lost you on Earth during the attack on the airfield. I thought you were gone for good then. I never expected you to show up here.” An inquisitive expression crossed his face. “How did you get here?

“She came with me.” Nicoli spoke for the first time, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“You?” Both the High Counsel and Counsel-elect looked from Nicoli to Angel as if weighing the truth of the statement. Then the High Counsel’s expression changed to one of horror. “My granddaughter is the woman you have been traveling with?”

“Yes.”

Angel watched her grandfather’s face turn red as he stared accusingly first at her, then at Nicoli. Again, she was grateful for Nicoli’s solid presence beside her.

“For the past eight years, I have allowed my granddaughter to do as she pleases, wandering across the universe, all the while, discreetly following her from a distance, interfering only when I felt her life, or her virtue, was in danger.” The High Counsel’s voice rose in volume. “I have gone to great lengths to ensure that no man take from her that which belongs to her husband.” The words practically spewed from his mouth. “And now, I find out that the most reputed soldier of the USP has turned my granddaughter into his whore?!”

Nicoli took a step forward, bodily moving Angel until she stood behind him. In a voice laced with steel and the promise of dire things to come, he faced the High Counsel. “Be very careful what you say about my wife.”

Both Angel’s and the High Counsel’s gasps were lost in the sudden murmurs of the crowd.

The High Counsel spoke first. “My granddaughter is your wife? When did this marriage take place?”

“We were married a few days ago, in accordance with Althusian law.”

The High Counsel turned to Angel, his tone sharp. “Is this true?”

Angel looked at Nicoli, wondering what game he played. But he let nothing show on his face. She would just have to trust him. “Yes.”

The High Counsel remained silent and Angel knew he weighed the pros and cons of this new situation. An ambitious man, he would no doubt see the advantage of an alliance with the United System of Planets. After a moment, his expression changed to one of satisfaction. In a voice loud enough to be heard by the entire crowd, he addressed Nicoli.

“Colonel Nicoli Romanof, do you claim An’jel ToRrenc, granddaughter to Gil’rhen ToRrenc, High Counsel of the House of Scyphor, for your own? Do you offer her your protection and take full responsibility for her, in accordance with our laws?”

The ceremonial words echoed across the room and Angel felt another wave of panic wash over her. Nicoli mustn’t answer. “He’s not familiar with our laws and customs,” she protested.

“Quiet,” her grandfather ordered.

“Yes,” Nicoli answered at the same time.

The silence that met Nicoli’s response was a death knoll for Angel and she was powerless to alter the course Nicoli had set for them.

“In accordance with Coronadian law, I recognize your Claim as husband to my granddaughter.” Here the High Counsel paused to turn toward the stunned audience. “As such, you are now successor to the High Counsel position.”

When Victor would have protested, the High Counsel waved him to silence. “We will discuss this later, privately. In the meantime, I suggest you go change clothes.”

Victor gave Nicoli a lethal look and stormed out of the room. Affecting a smile, the High Counsel took a step forward to shake Nicoli’s hand. “We have never had an off-worlder serve as leader of our people. It will take some getting used to.”

Nicoli nodded. He had no intention of being the high Counsel’s successor and suspected the old man would not allow it anyway. He'd deal with that when the time came. Meanwhile, he'd just been given a place to start his investigation. Victor, who had been in line for the High Counsel’s position, was now Nicoli’s number one suspect for being the Harvesters’ leader.

Nicoli turned to Angel. Judging from the shocked expression on her face, he knew he needed to get them someplace where they could talk privately. And soon.

The bruise on her cheek stood out and Nicoli raised his hand to cup her chin, gently tipping her head to the side so he could get a better look at the injury. The outline of someone’s hand was clear in the darkening skin.

“What happened?” His words were softly spoken, but he didn’t bother to hide the rage burning inside him. The two guards who’d held her before, stumbled back. Nicoli saw their eyes dart toward the head guard, who, in turn, sent Nicoli a challenging look.

“I ran into something,” Angel’s tone was sarcastic, but her eyes begged him to let it go.

“Ah. I was afraid someone had struck you.” His eyes came to rest on the head guard as he spoke and he let his tone say what his words did not. That any man who caused Angel injury would suffer the consequences by Nicoli’s own hand.

By now, the guests were over their initial shock and came forward to congratulate the High Counsel and welcome Nicoli as their Counsel-elect. Nicoli studied the face of every man whose hand he shook, trying to gauge the other man’s reaction. But if any Harvesters were in this room, it was not apparent by their behavior.

Angel stood quietly beside him and he felt the various emotions emanating off her like waves of heat off the desert. He had no doubt an interesting evening lay ahead. He was about to suggest they leave, when he heard her.

“Rianol.” Angel looked at the Advisor with a bemused expression on her face. Then to Nicoli’s surprise, she gave a shout of glee and threw herself into the other man’s arms.

Rianol had the good sense to look uncomfortable under Nicoli’s scrutiny and, after returning Angel’s hug, stepped back to a safer distance. Angel, seemingly oblivious to the underlying currents between the men, enthusiastically rushed on. “Rianol, it’s so good to see you again. Look at you, all grown up. Oh, Nicoli. This is Rianol. He and I used to play together as kids. When my father taught me to use the warring blade, Rianol was my sparring partner.” There was a wistful look on her face that Nicoli found irritating.

“Colonel Romanof, please forgive my familiarity with your wife,” Rianol apologized. “She is like a sister to me.” Then he held out his hand to Nicoli. “Allow me to congratulate you both.”

* * * * *

Several hours later, a serving girl showed Nicoli and Angel to a room in the palace. While Nicoli felt they would both be more comfortable on board his ship, he was willing to indulge the High Counsel’s request that they stay at the palace. Especially since this arrangement would give him an opportunity to study all the palace residents more closely.

After showing them around the luxurious room, the serving girl left and Angel and Nicoli were finally alone.

Standing there, Nicoli remembered how he’d felt when he came back to the ship and found Angel gone. His fear that she might run into trouble had been justified, judging from the bruise on her cheek. The thought ate at his patience. In an effort to restore his control, he walked to the bedroom door and locked it. Counting to ten, he prepared to talk to Angel in a calm, controlled tone. She never gave him the chance.

“Are you out of your mind? Did an infection from your wound rot your brain?”

“Me? What about you?” It seemed the height of hypocrisy that she should be mad at him.

“How dare you say we’re married. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

He felt the dam of his control break. “If you had stayed on the ship as instructed, none of this would have happened.” The reminder of the fear he felt when he discovered her gone just made him madder. “Do you realize what could have happened to you? What if one of those men hadn’t recognized you as the High Counsel’s granddaughter? What if they decided you were fair game? Were you going to fight them all? Damn it, Angel, they could have raped you.” Turning away from her, he shoved his fingers through his hair, fighting for calm.

Angel grew unusually quiet and when he turned back to her, he wanted to kick himself. The fire in her eyes had been replaced with a haunted wariness. A hand, not quite steady, had strayed to her bruised cheek. Swearing at himself, Nicoli crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to him. “I’ll kill him,” he said softly.

“I’m okay.” Her words were muffled, spoken against his chest, but she made no move to pull away. “He didn’t rape me, but...”

Nicoli tightened his embrace, trying to draw her closer, as if this were the only way he could protect her. He pressed his lips to her head and felt the warm breath of her sigh across his chest. “Tell me what happened.”

She was quiet so long, he thought she might not tell him anything, but then she began. She described listening in on his conversation with the High Counsel and discovering that her mother was alive.

“I had to go to her.” He could hear the plea for his understanding. And he did.

“Of course, you needed to go to her. But you should have waited for me. I would have helped you.”

“I know, but I thought while my grandfather was with you, I could sneak in and get her.” She gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “That plan certainly backfired, didn’t it?” She pulled herself from his arms and walked over to the bed, flinging her arm in the air, then letting it fall helplessly back to her side. “Married. I can’t believe it. You couldn’t come up with a better lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

She whirled around to face him. “Come again?”

Nicoli sighed, knowing the worst was yet to come. “It wasn’t a lie. We really are married.”

She was shaking her head. “No, no, no. I think I would know if I were married.” She stared at him, perhaps waiting for him to agree with her, but he said nothing. As if her knees had suddenly given out, she sank onto the edge of the bed. “Oh God. You’re serious.”

“I am Althusian and in my culture, a man does not take a woman’s virginity unless he intends to make that woman his wife. The other day, when we made love, I accepted the gift of your virginity and pledged myself to you, making us husband and wife.”

She stared at him, mouth open in disbelief. “You deceived me.”

“I asked if you wanted me to stop. You said no.”

“I didn’t know that meant I was getting married. You conveniently left that part out.” She stood up and began to pace. “Don’t you see? I’ve spent the past eight years fighting for the right to marry who I want. I ran away from my home so I wouldn’t end up married to someone against my will. And what do you do? You go one step further. Not only do you marry me without my permission, you do it without my knowledge. And not just in accordance with the laws of your planet, but now you’ve done it in accordance with the same laws I’ve been fighting.”

Nicoli’s temper flared. Didn’t she understand the magnitude of what he’d done for her?

“And what were you holding out for?” He sneered at her. “True love?”

“Yes.” She sighed, some of the fight going out of her. “Yes. Is that so wrong?”

“Grow up. There’s no such thing.”

She’d been looking down at the floor, but now shot him a look, some of the fire back in her eyes. “I deserve the right to find that out for myself and you took that away from me. Why? Why didn’t you stop?”

Why hadn’t he stopped? Because he’d wanted the sex? No, Nicoli knew better than that. It had been more than the sex. But what? The answer plagued him. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face it and viewed that as a weakness in himself. He wasn’t mad at Angel. He understood why she was upset. He was mad at himself. He’d argued that everything he’d done had been to protect her. But it wasn’t entirely true. He had deceived her. And he would have to make it up to her, no matter what the personal cost.

A knock at the door jerked his attention from her anguished face. Nicoli crossed the room to let Yanur in.

“I thought I’d see how everything is going.” Yanur’s smile quickly turned to a frown when he saw their faces. “Did I interrupt something?”

“I told her our marriage is legitimate. She’s not happy.”

“You tricked me.” Angel sent them both accusing looks, as if Yanur had been in on the scheme.

Nicoli didn’t know why he was taking her rejection so personally, but it ate at him. “It doesn’t have to be permanent. When we’re finished here, I’ll arrange for a divorce.”

That seemed to catch her off guard. She stared at him with an expression he couldn’t read. “Really?”

“Yes. But until then,” he warned, “we’re still married. It’s legitimate and perhaps the only thing protecting us, so I expect you to act like my wife.”

He followed her glance toward the bed and knew they were both thinking about the nights ahead. It would be hard, lying next to her, but not touching or holding her.

Perhaps reading his thoughts, Angel thrust her chin out in that defiant way he’d come to recognize. “You sleep on the floor.”

He sighed and she seemed to take that as agreement to her terms. She turned to Yanur. “My mother is very sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. You seem to know a lot about medicine, plus you’ve got that gizmo. I was wondering, maybe, if you would take a look at her?”

“Of course.” Yanur said.

“Thank you.” She gave Nicoli a cold look before walking toward the door. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Nicoli didn’t make any attempt to follow her. “Don’t wander off,” he ordered before the door slammed shut after her.

The two men stared at the closed door for a moment before either one of them spoke.

“So it’s true. You married her according to your ways?” Yanur finally asked.

“Yes.”

There was a thoughtful pause. “Althusians mate for life, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“So logically, it stands to follow that they don’t believe in divorce.”

“That’s true,” Nicoli agreed.

Nicoli felt the older man’s eyes on him. “Are you planning to be the first Althusian to pioneer the dissolution of marriage bonds? I hope you realize it might jeopardize your planetary hero status.”

Nicoli shot his friend a you-should-know-better look, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. An overwhelming tiredness threatened to envelop him and he rubbed his face as if he could wipe away the fatigue. “You know I never meant to marry. My lifestyle is filled with too many dangers and uncertainties. Plus, Angel has this idyllic notion about love and marriage.” He shook his head, as if there were no point in trying to argue against such naiveté.

“What are you going to do?”

“When we get to Earth, I’ll utter some official sounding words and then tell her she’s free to leave. When she finds someone else to marry, I won’t press my claim.”

“What about you? Will you remarry?”

“I will not dishonor the vows I took.”

“Then why let her?”

“It is my duty, and my pleasure, to see to her happiness. If giving her this divorce makes her happy, so be it.”

“What about your happiness?” Yanur asked softly.

Nicoli smiled. It was meant to be reassuring, but he knew Yanur would not be fooled by it. “Go see to the mother.”

Chapter 19

Ashen in color, malnourished and thin, the woman on the bed was still the most beautiful woman Yanur had ever seen. It was clear to him now where Angel inherited her stunning good looks. And though he had originally taken on the task of nursing her back to health as a favor to Angel, the task became personal the moment he set eyes on her.

He walked over to the bed to take a closer look. The woman was asleep, lying with eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. She seemed perfectly at peace, except for an occasional whimper. Yanur took the triage unit out of his black bag and scanned her from head to toe.

“Well?” Angel asked, standing patiently off to the side.

Yanur leaned closer to his patient to make sure she was sleeping before he answered. “There is substantial damage to the internal organs. They are being eaten by disease.” With a sudden pain to his heart, Yanur realized that if he couldn’t stop the progress of the disease, she would die soon.

He set the triage unit down on the bedside table, then returned to his bag to remove the cellular Reparator. When he turned back to his patient, quiet violet-colored eyes watched him.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he hurried to reassure her, although she didn’t seem distressed by his presence. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Am I dead?”

Her question made him smile. “No.”

“But I am dying.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she slipped into sleep again.

“Not if I can help it.” He turned on the Reparator and, starting at her head, slowly ran the wand down the entire length of her body, periodically checking the instrument’s battery gauge. He’d made one full sweep when the Reparator’s humming stopped. The crystals were drained. Placing it back in his bag, he used the triage unit to double-check his work.

“Yanur?” Angel’s quiet voice came to him.

“I’ve stopped the deterioration for now. But doing so drained the crystals. I’ll need to replace them before continuing the treatment.” He put the triage unit in his bag and closed it. He started to leave, but Angel’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“I’ll go get the crystals. I know where I can find some and even though I’m a woman, I’m still the High Counsel’s granddaughter. I won’t have any problems.” Angel headed for the door, but she paused before opening it. When she turned to him, there was an uncertainty in her eyes. “Will you stay with her?”

“Of course. But be careful. Alex would never forgive either one of us if you got hurt.”

After she left, he turned back to the bed. Once again, he was awed by the woman’s pale beauty. Almost afraid to touch such a vision, he laid his hand across her forehead, checking for residual signs of fever. Her head felt cool to his touch.

About to step back, Yanur saw her eyes open.

“You’re awake again.” He smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” Her voice grew a little stronger. “What did you do?”

“I’ve stopped the progression of the disease attacking your body.”

“Am I cured?”

His smile faltered. “Not yet, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you for trying.” She laid a hand on his arm and her touch was gentle heat shooting through his system. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the effect her touch had on him and silently chided himself for acting like a schoolboy with a crush. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound more professional and detached. “Don’t give up just yet. I’m not finished with you. It may take some time, but I’ll have you out of that bed before you know it.” He hoped like hell he wasn’t lying to her.

She smiled and the whole room brightened. “Would you help me sit up? I’ve been lying here for I don’t know how long.”

Yanur savored the feel of her hands braced on his shoulders as he practically lifted her off the bed. She weighed next to nothing. After fluffing the pillows for her, she leaned back. Suddenly she frowned and ran a hand across her hair. “I must look a mess.”

“No, you look beautiful.” Oh God, he sounded like a love-struck idiot. He felt himself blush and quickly turned so she wouldn’t see his face. When he turned back, he saw that a healthy glow graced her cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he tried to speak. “Maybe I should let you rest now,” he mumbled, not really wanting to leave.

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Are you sure you can’t stay a little while?”

“Well, I...”

“Please.”

He was putty in her hands. “I would be delighted.” He looked around the room for a chair.

“Here.” She moved her legs and patted the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid I’m still a little confused. Have we met?”

“No.” He sat down, careful not to jostle the bed too much. “My name is Yanur Snellen.”

“Yanur, what an interesting name. My name is Kat’rina ToRrenc.”

Yanur picked up her hand and gently laid a kiss upon her knuckles in the way he’d seen it done on old Earth documentaries. “Kat’rina ToRrenc. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He was rewarded with the light tinkling sound of her laughter.

“Tell me, Yanur, what brings you to Coronado? I know full well my father would never send for an off-world physician.”

“I came here with your daughter, Angel.”

“Angel?” She asked in obvious disbelief.

He smiled and nodded.

“My Angel? It wasn’t a dream? She’s alive?”

“Yes, she’s alive.”

“Where is she?” She looked around the room as if Angel might be hiding in the room. “I thought I had imagined her. I never dared hope she was really alive.”

Yanur spoke in a quiet, reassuring tone. “She will be back shortly. I know she’s eager to see you feeling better.”

“My father…does he know?” Kat’rina grew agitated. “Did he hurt her? She can’t stay. He’ll sell her to the highest bidder.”

Yanur patted her hand, trying his best to calm her after the quick and frightened outburst. “It’s okay. No one is going to hurt her, or sell her off. Not so long as Alex is around.”

“Alex?”

“Perhaps I should start from the beginning.” He studied her complexion, which had lost some of its color. “That is, as long as you feel up to it.”

“Yes, please.”

For the next hour, Yanur and Kat’rina talked. Yanur told her everything he could about Alex and Angel, while Kat’rina told him what she could about the High Counsel and his advisors. Neither noticed the time slipping by until finally the door to Kat’rina’s bedroom opened.

“Mother!” Angel ran across the room.

“My Angel!” Kat’rina stretched her arms out wide and Yanur barely moved out of the way in time before Angel threw herself into her mother’s embrace.

For a moment, neither could speak past the stream of tears. Then suddenly, the dam burst and both women were talking and laughing at once. Neither noticed when Yanur quietly slipped from the room.

* * * * *

The dinner guests had all gone home and while it was late at night, the High Counsel’s chambers were no less active. Despite his advanced years and failing health, Gil’rhen felt better than he had in a long time. He sat at his desk, observing the by-play between his advisors, careful not to show his amusement.

Victor ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, and looked to Rianol for support.

“I believe what Victor is trying to suggest,” Rianol said, “is that the people may have a hard time accepting Colonel Romanof as High Counsel because he’s not Coronadian. You must admit that for a man who has always touted the importance of tradition, this is an unexpected move on your part.”

Gil’rhen purposely misunderstood their message. “Your concern for my granddaughter’s welfare is touching. But I thought she looked happy. Didn’t you think she looked happy, Rianol? Victor?”

He almost laughed as confusion distorted Victor’s face. They no doubt thought he’d gone senile. After all, when had he ever cared whether anyone was happy?

“My concern is for the blood lineage.” Victor tried again to press his point. “Or don’t you care anymore that the succession to the House of Scyphor will be passed into the hands of an off-worlder?”

Gil’rhen raised an eyebrow. “You are concerned about a dilution of the bloodline?”

“Yes.” Victor heaved a sigh, no doubt pleased that finally Gil’rhen understood his concerns.

Gil’rhen waited a heartbeat before giving his advisors something to think about. “You’re not viewing this situation the way I am. Don’t think of Colonel Romanof as an alien. Think of him as our link to the United System of Planets – the most powerful governing entity in the known universes. And the single largest user of tyrillium. When the USP’s supply runs dry, where do you think they will turn to secure more? To an unknown source? Or to their very own Colonel Romanof, who controls Coronado, where tryillium is as common as air? I assure you, they will be delighted to pay whatever we charge.”

A knock at the door interrupted further discussion and the men looked up as the doors opened and Colonel Romanof was ushered in.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I was hoping for a few minutes of your time.”

“Of course, of course. We were just finished, weren’t we?”

Victor frowned, obviously not pleased with the interruption. Both advisors exchanged greetings with Colonel Romanof as they passed him on their way out.

Gil’rhen offered the younger soldier a seat in one of the chairs grouped on the side of his office.

“Would you like a drink?” Gil’rhen offered, walking over to the sideboard where he kept a collection of the finest liquors. “I have both local and inter-galactic ales.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Very well.” Gil’rhen smiled to himself as he turned his back and selected a bottle containing dark green liquid. Distilled Baneubian tree sap. Very potent, but with a vile taste. It was a favorite among his warriors, who considered drinking it a sign of strength and control. He would see what type of soldier his granddaughter had married.

He turned back around, a small glass of the green liquid in each hand. He held one out to Colonel Romanof, then sat in the chair opposite the younger man. “I’m surprised to see you at this time of night. Have you and my granddaughter tired of one another so quickly?”

Rather than hurry to give Gil’rhen reassurances, as most men would do, Romanof merely gave him a tolerant smile. “Angel is visiting with her mother at the moment.”

Gil’rhen nodded, then took a sip from his drink. The vile liquid burned its way down his throat, but he showed no reaction.

“High Counsel, there is a matter of some importance we must discuss.”

“Please, I am at your service.” He spoke, only dimly following the conversation. The rest of his attention focused on the moment when Romanof would lift the glass and drink. Would he wince? Gil’rhen wondered. Or cough as the liquid burned him? In anticipation, Gil’rhen took another sip of his own drink.

Romanof raised his glass to his lips and their eyes briefly met over the rim. Gil’rhen thought he saw the other man smile, but couldn’t be certain. Then Romanof tipped the entire contents of his glass into his mouth and smoothly swallowed the liquid.

Gil’rhen struggled to keep the surprise from his face. Romanof’s eyes didn’t even water. His admiration and respect for the young colonel rose another notch. But he wasn’t through testing the man.

“You know, Colonel...Nicoli. May I call you Nicoli? I have followed my granddaughter’s movements for years. I’m sure she’s told you much about me. Some of it is even true. But despite what she thinks, I do care what happens to her. In my own way, I have tried to protect her. And for that reason, I’m telling you this. I am a man who wields a great deal of power on this planet and I am not above using that power should I discover that An’jel was forced into this marriage. Now you may think that is hypocritical of me, as I intended to force her into a marriage of my choosing, but that is my right as her grandfather and her ruler.”

Nicoli set his empty glass on a nearby table. He didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. His gaze was clear and steady as he met Gil’rhen’s eyes. “I would never dishonor Angel in any way.” His eyes and expression took on a look of cold steel. “And I would never allow anyone to bring her harm.”

The two continued to assess one another, each taking the other’s measure. Then Gil’rhen nodded. He liked what he saw in this young warrior. He had a rare intelligence coupled with the strength to back it up. A valuable trait to have in an ally.

Not so good to have in one’s enemy.

“As we are clearing the air, I must tell you that I had intended to select my own successor to the High Counsel position. Sadly, my daughter’s second husband died in the war shortly after they were married. There was a third, but he died under suspicious circumstances in his own bed. As did the fourth. After that, well, let’s just say no one was willing to risk their life by marrying my daughter – even if it meant becoming High Counsel. I gave up trying to marry her off and resigned myself to the knowledge that my successor would have to be the man who married my granddaughter. I never expected that person to be an off-worlder.” He paused. “I don’t mind telling you that I don’t think the High Counsel should be an off-worlder.”

Nicoli nodded. “I did not marry your granddaughter so I could rule your House. I’m not interested in becoming the High Counsel.”

“Good. But we do still have one small problem. In order for the line of succession to stay in my family, the next ruler must be married to my granddaughter.”

“We don’t have a problem. You have a problem,” Nicoli countered, his voice unyielding. “Because Althusians mate for life.”

Gil’rhen nodded his understanding. Nicoli had passed the second test and it was a shame, because what he’d told Nicoli was the truth, but he would address that problem later.

“Let us deal with one unpleasantness at a time.” He forced his tone to sound lighter. “I will not allow these Harvesters to infiltrate my planet. They must be eliminated. If one or more of them has infiltrated my home, as you suspect, then naming you as my successor has threatened their plans. At some point, they will act. You must be ready.”

“Rest assured, High Counsel. I will be ready - for all attempts on my life.”

Chapter 20

Angel woke up late the next morning feeling tired. It had taken her a long time the night before to fall asleep. She’d returned from her mother’s room to find Nicoli waiting up for her. Neither had spoken as Nicoli laid a pallet of blankets on the floor, where he planned to sleep. She’d waited a long time to see if he would change his mind about joining her in bed, hoping he might at least try. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to, she’d tossed and turned for hours wondering why that upset her.

Now she looked across the room. Morning sunlight streamed through the window, targeting the empty pallet on the floor with its rays. Nicoli had awakened early, before dawn and while she’d pretended to sleep, he’d moved quietly about the room getting dressed. Just before leaving, he’d come to stand by the bed. He’d looked down at her for so long she felt certain he’d known she was awake. He’d turned and walked out without saying a word.

He had gone with her grandfather to search for Harvesters and she found it irritating that he hadn’t invited her to go along. Apparently, she was good enough to fight Free Rebels in open space, but not to hunt Harvesters on her home planet.

Thinking about it only made her angry, so she climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. It had been so long since she’d showered with real water that she stood under the warm spray longer than she realized. By the time she emerged, her skin was wrinkled, but she felt better.

As she dressed, she wondered what Nicoli thought she was supposed to do all day. Sit around and wait for him to return from his great adventure? Or maybe he thought she’d seek out the other women and help them prepare food, mend clothes or something equally boring.

No thank you.

She left her room and made her way through the halls of the palace. When Angel reached her mother’s room, Yanur was already there. The two were deeply immersed in conversation and barely acknowledged her arrival. Feeling like an intruder, she turned to leave and caught sight of an object leaning against the far corner.

“Is that Father’s warring blade?” She walked over to the weapon and picked it up. It was lighter than she remembered, but then, she was no longer a child.

“Yes,” her mother answered. “I could never bear to give it away.”

Gripping the handle with both hands, Angel raised the weapon and assumed the ready stance her father had taught her. The blade’s dull gleam reflected years of nonuse and the once razor-sharp center blade felt blunt when she ran a finger along the sword’s length in a feather-light touch. Memories of afternoons practicing with her father flooded her mind.

“I think he would want you to have it,” her mother said, causing Angel to look toward her.

“Really?”

Her mother smiled and nodded. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” She looked back at the blade as an idea formed. “If you two are okay, I think I’ll go.” The older couple didn’t seem to notice when she slipped from the room.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later, she sat in the courtyard, enjoying the sun’s warmth on her back, rubbing the blades of her father's weapon with a polishing cloth. She was lost in memories of her times with him when a shadow fell across her.

“You should be careful. One wrong move and you might accidentally cut off one of those very lovely fingers.”

Her hands stilled as she cocked her head to look up at Victor. “I know what I’m doing.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

“Yes, it is. Though I appreciate your concern,” she said in a voice that let him know she didn’t appreciate anything. “Don’t let me keep you from going.”

The smile never left his face. “Not a problem.” He walked over to a nearby bench and sat down.

He looked prepared to sit all day and Angel worked to keep the irritation from showing on her face. “What happened? You draw the short straw?”

His confused expression told her that he’d never heard the expression. “It’s an old Earth game of chance where everyone draws a single piece of straw from a bale of hay. The one with the shortest straw loses.” She nodded to him. “Someone had to make sure I didn’t run away again and you drew the short straw.”

The light of understanding clicked on, but the smile he gave her was far from embarrassed. It was almost suggestive. “I cheated.”

That didn’t make sense to her. “Why?”

“I couldn’t leave to chance the opportunity to spend all day in the pleasure of your company. So I arranged for Rianol and Pualson to be busy.”

“After last night, I wouldn’t think you’d want to be anywhere near me.”

He smiled. “I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, a man always appreciates the chance to spend time with an attractive woman, even when he has no hope of winning her for himself.”

Angel laughed and felt the weight of her problems with her grandfather and Nicoli lift slightly from her shoulders. The man could be charming. He could also be a Harvester, she reminded herself. After all, who better to influence the decisions of the High Counsel than his Counsel-elect? Former Counsel-elect, she amended. If he was a Harvester, losing the position might make him very dangerous. Maybe she should do a little investigative work herself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to use one of these?” She asked, mock innocence lacing her words.

He pretended offense. “My dear An’jel, I’ll have you know that I am quite accomplished in the use of the warring blade.”

“Care to go a few bouts on the practice field?"

“Me? Practice against a woman?”

“Try not to think of me as a woman.”

“Impossible.” He winked at her as he rose from the bench. “But now that you mention it, there are a couple of moves I’d like to show you.”

* * * * *

Nicoli steered his small borrowed craft to the landing site on the far side of the High Counsel’s palace. He had mixed feelings about the day’s outing. He and Gil’rhen had visited the four nearest villages and not found a single trace of repossessed Harvesters.

It wasn’t that he expected there to be a sign posted at the colony entrance that read “Harvesters Welcomed,” but he thought he would have found something. There were too many generations of ingrained cultural norms to overcome for the Harvesters to blend easily into an existing community, but neither he nor Gil’rhen had noticed anything unusual. Either the Harvesters weren’t there or they were doing one hell of a job blending in.

Neither thought comforted Nicoli.

After securing the ship and seeing Gil’rhen safely to his office, Nicoli made his excuses and went in search of Angel. He frowned, knowing how mad she must have been to discover he’d left without her. He'd already placed her life in danger too many times on this mission. He wasn’t about to again.

“Angel?” He called, walking into their room. It was empty. He crossed to the bathroom, the thought of catching her coming out of the shower too good to pass up. “Angel, are you in here?” No response.

He was growing worried. Had he made a mistake, thinking her safe inside the palace? He walked across the room, imagining the worst when a movement outside the window caught his eye. Turning to take a better look, he felt his mood sour and his blood pressure rise.

Angel was in the back of the courtyard with Victor and though they both had warring blades drawn, it was obvious they weren’t fighting. Even as he watched, Victor lowered his weapon to the ground and moved to stand behind Angel. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands cover hers on the hilt of the weapon. Then, moving as one, they lifted the blade to sweep the air in an arc.

The scene bore an air of intimacy that had Nicoli gritting his teeth. It seemed much too long a time before Angel, face smiling, stepped out of the other man’s embrace. Her laughter floated to him across the distance, the sound of it surprising.

He’d never made her laugh. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her laugh.

It was a depressing thought that quickly turned to an anger aimed equally at Victor, for making open advances toward his wife, and Angel, for seeming so receptive to those advances.

He left the room, his long strides taking him quickly to the courtyard as his thoughts turned to how he would handle the situation before him.

“Colonel Romanof.”

He didn’t hear the servant until she stepped into his path, blocking his way. “Sorrah, isn’t it?” He struggled to keep the irritation from his voice.

“Yes. I didn’t think you’d noticed me.”

He stared at her, amazed. The serving girl had practically thrown herself at him this morning at breakfast and now she blocked his path. How could he not have noticed? Somehow taking his silence as encouragement, she smiled and took a step closer.

“Was there something you wanted?” He stared past her to the outside courtyard entrance for some sign of Angel and Victor beyond. The maid’s hand on his arm brought his attention back to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I will take care of you.” From her tone he knew she wasn’t offering to fix his meals. Stepping closer, she laid the palms of her hands against his chest.

Irritation warred with manners. He could hardly push the woman aside. While he debated how to rid himself of her, she took advantage of his silence, taking that last step that brought their bodies into contact.

“How can she satisfy you when you don’t even sleep together?” She smiled at his confused look. “I cleaned your room this morning and saw the pallet on the floor.”

“We had a fight. That’s all.” He shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant, but the movement rubbed her against him and he froze.

Misunderstanding his reaction, she grew bolder. Her arms stole about his neck as she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “I know what a man needs.”

Before he could stop her, Sorrah’s lips pressed against his. He placed his hands at her waist and tried to gently push her away, but she refused to budge.

“What is going on here?” Victor’s voice drifted across the courtyard to them.

Nicoli and Sorrah sprang apart guiltily and turned to face two equally angry faces.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Nicoli.

Angel was so mad, she could hardly see straight. Beside her, Victor had lost all semblance of the charming man he’d been all afternoon. The look he sent Nicoli was lethal and Angel wondered that Nicoli didn’t die right there on the spot.

“Sorrah,” he growled. “You will come with me now.”

The maid’s eyes grew large as she watched him stride toward her, but she did not cower or pull away when he reached her side and took her arm.

“I’m sure the Colonel and his wife would like some privacy.” Victor put extra emphasis on the word “wife” while pinning Nicoli with an accusing glare. After a moment’s silence, he turned to face Angel. “If you will excuse us?”

He practically dragged the maid back into the palace, but Angel didn’t feel sorry for her in the least. Left alone, Nicoli walked the short distance separating them.

“I can explain.”

“Can you?” She didn’t have to fake the frost in her tone. “All that talk about acting like a legitimately married couple.” She shook her head. “I guess fidelity doesn’t mean much to Althusians.”

The attack hit a nerve. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to him, thrusting his face close to hers. “And you've been the model wife, haven't you? Don't bother lying. I saw you out here with him.” He sneered.

She stared at him, too stunned to speak for a moment. “YOU’RE accusing ME?” She tried to jerk her arm away, but his grip was too tight.

“His arms were all over you. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Oh well, you caught me,” she said sarcastically, her voice growing louder. “But somehow I don’t think practicing with the warring blade is the same thing as kissing!” She shouted.

With a powerful yank, she freed her arm from his grasp and stormed out of the courtyard, not stopping until she reached the practice field. Confused by hurt and anger, she stood beside the rack of practice blades, absently clenching and unclenching her fists. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk,” Nicoli said, having followed her.

Angel eyed the blades in the rack, then grabbed one by the hilt, blades down, and tossed it to him.

“If you want to talk to me, you’ll need this.”

She walked to an open area, satisfied to see that he followed her. Despite the ache in her arms from the earlier practice with Victor, she raised her weapon and held it ready. She doubted Nicoli had ever used a warring blade before which gave her a slight advantage.

“Heads up.”

She lunged at him, catching him off guard, but he recovered quickly, blocking the downward descent of her blades. He parried with a gentler stroke of his own. She blocked his move then attacked again, swinging her weapon, letting anger fuel her strength. The impact caused Nicoli to fall back a step.

“Sorry,” Angel spoke with mock sweetness. “I didn’t realize you weren’t up to a real workout. I’ll try to pull my strikes a bit, go easy on you.”

Nicoli drew himself up to his full height and looked down at her with a thunderous expression. When she brought her blades down for the next strike, he blocked it with such force, the impact of the blades clashing reverberated up her arm and left her skull ringing. Or maybe that was her temper ringing in her ear. Instinctively, she took a step back.

“Just for the record,” Nicoli snarled, stepping forward. “Sorrah kissed me. I didn’t kiss her.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She lost more ground when Nicoli lunged and she took a step back to ease the impact of her block. Furious with herself, she swung the blades over her head and brought them crashing down. The effort cost her dearly.

“Fine. Then let’s talk about what you were doing out here all alone with Victor.” Nicoli blocked yet another blow that fell too hard for a practice session.

“For your information, I was investigating him.” She was breathing hard and small muscle tremors were making it difficult to hold the weapon steady, but she refused to stop.

“I don’t want you spending time with him.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

He brought his weapon up to meet hers and their blades locked together. Nicoli pressed his advantage, towering over her. “Yes, I can. I’m your husband.”

Angel tried to break her weapon free, but Nicoli’s strength and her own fatigue made it impossible.

“Yield.” Nicoli’s quiet tone hinted at more than just the blades.

“Never.”

Lowering his arm, he forced the tip of her long blade to the ground and trapped it there. “Yield to me.”

His eyes held hers hostage and the raw masculine power of his gaze washed over her, enveloping her, stealing her strength and sense of purpose until his demand became an echo of her own desire. Her resolve weakened and her fingers began to lose their grip on the blade. The slight upward tug of Nicoli’s lips, the look of smug satisfaction on his face, broke the spell.

Feeling for the small button in the grip of her weapon, she pressed it.

“You first.” The hilt separated from the blade and with a last burst of energy, she quickly raised her hand and placed the dagger’s sharp edge against his throat.

Their gazes locked again. She struggled to keep her hand from trembling, afraid she really might draw blood. There was no fear in Nicoli’s gaze.

Suddenly her feet were kicked out from under her.

Unable to get her arms back in time to cushion her fall, she hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. In the nanosecond it took to catch her breath, Nicoli pinned her to the ground with his body. She brought her hands up to beat at him, but he caught them easily and held them trapped beneath one of his, using the other for support.

Brown eyes glared into hers. The intensity in Nicoli’s scowl, the anger she felt in the tenseness of his body, caused Angel to shudder. Yet she lifted her chin. Seeing it, Nicoli shook his head, a nasty grin spread across his face. “Lesson number one, wife. Don’t pull it out unless you intend to use it.”

Angel struggled to take in air, desperately wishing his body didn’t feel so good. “Get off me.”

“Not before you yield to me.”

“Never.” She struggled against him, but the effort did nothing more than rub their bodies together. The earthy scent of crushed grass and dirt rose to mingle with the aroma of virile male, filling her senses. Her mind begged her to resist, but her body refused. Beneath his weight, her pulse quickened in anticipation.

As if reading her reaction, he gave her that knowing smile. “Yield,” he whispered, his breath fanning her face.

Again, she twisted beneath him, a futile attempt. When a groan escaped his lips, she froze, noticing for the first time his arousal pressing against her stomach. For what seemed an eternity, their eyes locked on one another, searching, assessing. Anticipating.

Then his mouth captured hers and there was nothing tender in the painful pressing of his lips against hers. She tried to turn away, but he used the weight of his body to keep her pinned to the ground while he held her head still between his hands. Though she should have been frightened, she wasn’t. Desire shot through her and when Nicoli’s tongue demanded entry into her mouth, she opened to him.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, leaving no part untouched and she reveled in the sensations. She had never been kissed like this and it left her feeling dizzy.

A distant part of her mind whispered caution, almost too faint to be heard. Danger lay this way - danger to her heart. To her soul. But something else waited as well, just out of reach. Something she’d experienced once before with this man; something she’d never experience again once they were divorced. She would take all she could now and live off the memories later.

Passion overriding caution, Angel’s hands gripped Nicoli’s powerful shoulders as she matched his urgency with a hunger she herself did not recognize. Nicoli too seemed surprised, but then she felt the subtle change in his actions as his need to dominate evolved into something else.

His mouth abandoned her lips to trail tiny kisses down the column of her neck, pausing every now and then to suck gently at the tender skin. The hand at her side moved to her breast, cupping it, gently squeezing. When she arched into him, it seemed to push Nicoli over the edge and he ripped open her shirt, exposing her to the air.

She should have felt vulnerable, but she didn’t. His look was one of near reverence, intense hunger, and it made her feel beautiful. Nicoli lowered his head to tease the nipple with his tongue before catching it lightly between his teeth and gently tugging. The sensation was exquisite, and low in her abdomen, anticipation grew. She moved her hips to relieve the tension and felt Nicoli’s quick intake of breath as she rubbed against his swollen manhood.

Nicoli’s hand moved to her waist, working to undo the fastening of her pants. Within moments he’d worked them down her legs and they lay, forgotten, off to the side. The roughened palm of his hand ran along the outside of her leg, up toward her hip. He rolled his weight to one side so he could gain better access to the inside of her thighs. With a light pressure, he opened her legs to his exploration.

Using her own dampness, he moistened her feminine folds. Then with experienced deftness, his finger swept inside her. Sensation shot through her, narrowing her focus of the world to where his hand joined her body.

“Please, Nicoli,” she whispered in a breathless plea, tilting her hips to meet the growing need within her.

“Yield to me, Kiera,” he whispered. “I won’t let you fall.” He captured her lips, letting his fingers probe her more deeply.

There was no need for her to speak. They both knew he’d won. The tingling sensation between her legs increased and she felt the tightening in her abdomen. Growing desperate, Angel reached down to stroke his hardened member through the fabric of his pants. He groaned into her mouth, then suddenly pulled away, leaving her alone.

Through eyes dulled with passion, she searched for him. He stood close by, shedding his clothes with a swift efficiency. Before her body could catch a chill he was back. Angel felt the warmth of his skin against hers and it was a feeling of such primal satisfaction, she thought she might burst.

Positioned above her, he opened her legs with his knees. She felt him probe the cleft of her body, a brief warning before he thrust inside, filling her completely. He gave her only a moment to adjust to his size before withdrawing. The dew of her excitement eased his second entry and he penetrated her more deeply. She shuddered in response as he held himself still, filling her, watching her.

At first, he moved slowly, deliberately, demonstrating his dominance and control. But his rhythm soon changed, each thrust coming harder and more rapidly. Now there was no gentleness in his actions, nor did she want there to be.

This was a mating ritual older than time itself, driven by sheer instinct. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she held on, conscious only of the crescendo of some inner power, building until it could no longer be contained. When the explosion came, accompanied by Nicoli’s primal groan of release, she soared higher than the stars in the furthest reaches of space.

* * * * *

How long they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Nicoli had no idea. He wanted to stay this way forever. In part because it felt so good, but a part of him hoped to put off facing what he had done. Funny, he thought wryly, he’d never been a coward before. Why suddenly now? Was it because he’d never taken a woman by force before? Or was it because that woman was Angel?

He shouldn’t have done it this way. He’d just been so angry, seeing her with Victor. Didn’t she realize how dangerous the man could be? By spending too much time with Victor, Angel risked exposing their marriage for the sham it was.

A small part of his brain called him a liar. His intentions had not been for the sake of the mission. They had been more selfish, but that was a line of thought Nicoli refused to pursue.

He looked at Angel, cradled in his arms. He had to make her understand that they must, in all ways, behave as a married couple. Nicoli had no doubt he could go through with the charade and walk away emotionally unscathed when it was over. Just because he’d told Yanur that he’d honor his wedding vows and never marry another didn’t mean he loved Angel.

Love?

When had he ever used that word in the same sentence with anyone other than his mother? This wasn’t about loving someone. Uttering the words of binding back on the ship had been a matter of honor. Nothing more.

As if she felt his thoughts centering on her, Angel turned her head to look up at him. Her smile bolstered his spirits. Propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down into her face, Nicoli raised a hand to brush a strand of hair from her forehead, then let his fingertips trail softly down her cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

A small laugh bubbled forth. “No. I may be a little sore tomorrow, but it will be as much from an extended workout with the blades as anything else.”

Nicoli smiled. “I’m glad. Angel, I…” He looked off in the distance, gathering his thoughts, unsure how to continue.

Angel placed her fingertips across his lips, silencing him. “If you apologize for what we just did, I will be hurt.”

He leaned down, letting his lips find hers briefly before pulling back to search her eyes. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, I never meant to hurt you.”

“That sounds ominous.” Angel said. “But don’t worry, I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know you do.”

Angel twisted her head to look around the field. “We should probably get dressed.”

“We need to talk.”

“Ah, the four most commonly uttered words in the universe.” Her smile faltered briefly. “Look. I know you don’t want to stay married to me anymore than I do to you, but there’s no reason why we can’t enjoy ourselves for as long as it lasts, is there?”

He’d been about to suggest that very thing, but hearing her say the words left him feeling strangely hollow. He could barely formulate a response. “I suppose not. If you’re sure?”

She smiled, although he thought her eyes remained a bit sad. “Okay. Good. I’m glad we agree.”

“Well, then we should probably go back.”

“Not yet. I have a better idea," she said.

He helped her sit up and then handed her his shirt to put on. After scrambling to her feet, she grabbed her pants and the tattered remains of her shirt. Holding them in one hand, she grabbed up her warring blade and started walking away from the palace and toward the line of trees.

“Come with me,” she said, looking back only once to make sure he followed.

“Where are we going?” Nicoli spotted faint traces of an old trail through the foliage.

“It’s a surprise.”

They walked in silence until gradually the foliage opened to reveal emerald green grass surrounding a crystal clear blue pond. It was a private oasis, a place removed from time. It was his turn to look at her in surprise.

“I thought it might be nice to swim before we put our clothes back on.” She didn’t wait for his reply, but put down her blade and pants, took off his shirt and dove into the water.

Her head surfaced and she immediately wrapped her arms around herself, gasping and laughing. “The water’s a little colder than I remembered.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay here and watch you.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t know how to swim?”

He smiled, accepting the challenge. Locking his gaze with hers, he walked calmly into the water, never letting his expression change. Then he dove under the surface and swam toward her. He broke off the stem of an underwater plant as he swam and when he was close enough, he ran the grass up her leg.

She almost hit him in the face when she jumped, a scream catching in her throat until she realized what he’d done. He laughed so hard he almost drowned. When he came up for air, she launched herself at him in an attempt to push him back under.

They continued their play for some time until Nicoli happened to look at the sky and noticed that the first of the two suns had already begun its decent.

“We need to get back. Why don’t we sit on those rocks and dry off.” He looked around and saw that they were still very much alone.

“Not many people come here,” Angel commented, walking up the beach to retrieve her torn shirt. “That’s why I used to come here as a kid. It was one of the few places where I could be alone.”

Making a point to stand with her back to him, she used her torn shirt to dry off, rubbing the cloth quickly across her body. It made him smile to think this fierce little warrior was shy around him, especially after their earlier lovemaking and playing in the water. When Angel finished, she picked up his shirt and put it on. When she turned and saw him watching, a blush spread across her face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”

“Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

He caught her shirt when she threw it at him and used it to dry himself. “No. But Yanur has wasted many years trying to make up for the lack.”

She sat on a nearby rock. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Twenty-four years.”

“Twenty-four years! That’s a long time. How did you meet?”

“I was on Corrinth IV. There was a Resistance uprising and one of my first assignments after I joined the Althusian Legionnaires was to help suppress it. Yanur was a member of the Corrinth Revolution. He’d been taken hostage by the Resistance and was being held in one of their prisons. I broke him out.”

“Wait a minute. Twenty-four years ago, you were a Legionnaire, on assignment at Corrinth IV during the uprising and your mission was to break a hostage out of prison? Give me a break. First of all, I’m familiar with the prisons you’re talking about and they are virtually impenetrable. Second, that long ago, you would have been just a kid.”

As memories flooded back, Nicoli walked over to sit beside her on the rock. “I was fourteen. Admittedly, the youngest Legionnaire to ever serve.” He laughed when he saw the skeptical expression on her face. There was no fooling her. “Okay, they didn’t exactly know I was fourteen. I looked old for my age, so I told them I was eighteen. Of course, they thought I looked young for my age.”

Angel shook her head. “I can’t believe your parents let you join.”

His smile faded. “They didn’t have much of a say. They were dead.”

“I’m sorry. What happened?”

He turned his head and stared out over the water, finally daring to say aloud the words he repeated to himself daily.

“I killed them.”

Chapter 21

Angel absorbed Nicoli’s shocking announcement in silence. In truth, she didn’t know what to say. So she sat patiently beside him and waited for him to elaborate.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he finally said, a hint of accusation in his eyes.

“I know you’ve killed before. I’ve seen you do it. Hell, I’ve done it myself. But do I think you killed your family? No, I don’t.”

He seemed somewhat mollified by her answer because he nodded and then looked away, studying the horizon once more.

“So what happened?” She asked.

He was silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he began to speak in a distant, far-off voice. “When I was ten, my planet was at war with itself. Most of the men in my colony left to fight, my father included. The women and children stayed behind to run the farms and businesses. Near the end of the war, our colony was attacked. Boys were particular targets of invading soldiers, so my mother hid me in a secret panel in the wall. She thought I would be safe. You see, generations ago, our race almost died out. Women, because they could bear children, were revered and protected, respected even during times of war. There was no reason to believe their lives were in jeopardy.

“Unfortunately, because the enemy had sustained substantial losses, in a last desperate attempt to win, they enlisted the help of off-world mercenaries, who shared none of our values. Five of these mercenaries broke into our house and attacked my mother. Though no one could see me where I hid, the cracks between the panels afforded me an excellent view of her rape and murder.”

“Oh, Nicoli. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve your sympathy.” Angel could hear the pain in his voice.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I did nothing, Angel. I heard her screams and did nothing. I stayed where I was until long after the men left. Too afraid to come out for fear they’d be back.”

“And what do you think you could’ve done?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. But I shouldn’t have hidden. It was my job to protect her and I failed.”

“You were ten years old! A child. There was nothing you could have done. If you'd tried, they would've killed you. Your mother wouldn't have wanted that. If I had a child, I would do anything to protect him or her. And if I died doing it, at least I’d die knowing my child was alive and safe.”

Nicoli said nothing.

“What about your father?” Angel asked softly. “Was he killed fighting in the war?”

“No. The authorities notified his commanders. He was discharged and sent home to take care of me.”

“He must have been so grateful you were still alive.”

“No,” he said. “The day he came home, he accused me of being a coward - and then he walked out the door.”

“He was distraught, grieving. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“We’ll never know. After he left me that day, he headed to the nearest bar. By the time the bar closed and he headed home, he was too drunk to fly and crashed his shuttle. He was killed instantly.”

Angel reached for Nicoli’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Nicoli, look at me.” He did as she asked and the grief she saw in his eyes shook her to her core. “You and I are so alike in some ways. We both try to control what happens to us. For years, I blamed myself for my father’s death, until one day I realized that sometimes, bad things happen. We can’t do anything about it. And I know the pain and hurt is so excruciating you think you’ll die. Sometimes you wish you would die from it. But eventually, things get better.”

She squeezed his hand and held his gaze. “You can’t go through life blaming yourself for things you have no control over. You didn’t kill your family. Those mercenaries killed your mother, and your father's accident was, sadly, his own fault. Don’t waste the gift of life by trying to throw it away. You’re a good man. Believe in yourself. I do.”

* * * * *

An hour later found Nicoli waiting for Angel to finish dressing in their bathroom so they could join the others in the banquet hall. He felt better than he had in a long time. A burden he’d carried his whole life had suddenly grown lighter. He knew his mood was largely due to Angel’s words by the pond but he didn't know why they'd had such a profound effect on him. Fortunately, he was saved from further thoughts of Angel by a knock on their door.

“What have you done all day?” Nicoli asked, inviting Yanur inside.

“I’ve been with Katrina.”

Nicoli raised an eyebrow. “Katrina?”

Yanur looked abashed. “Angel’s mother.”

Nicoli couldn’t keep the amused smile from his lips. “And you’ve spent all day with her? I’m sorry. That must have been tough. I’ll ask the High Counsel to help provide some relief so you won’t have to be with her so much.”

“No, no,” Yanur said a little too quickly. “It’s no bother, I. . .Okay, okay. I get it. You’re teasing me. Well, she happens to be a very nice woman.”

“I have no doubt.” Nicoli laughed. He couldn’t blame his friend for being attracted to Angel’s mother. Not when he, himself, was so taken with her daughter. As if his thoughts conjured her, Angel stepped out of the bathroom wearing a traditional Coronadian dress that left her looking enticingly feminine.

“How’s Mom doing?” Angel asked Yanur.

“Medically, I’ve removed the toxins in her body and managed to reverse much of the damage that was done.” Yanur grew silent, seemingly lost in thought.

“But?” Nicoli encouraged him.

Yanur’s eyes focused once again on Nicoli. “But she doesn’t seem to be getting better. Every day, more toxins appear in her system. It’s very confusing.”

“Could you be leaving some of the toxin behind on accident and they’re reproducing?”

“No, I thought of that. I’ve been very careful to remove all the toxins.” He paused for a moment, giving Angel a quick glance, almost as if he were afraid to say more. “It’s almost like she’s being poisoned.”

“Poisoned!” Angel gasped. “How?”

Yanur shook his head. “That I don’t know. I’ve checked everything. I even started preparing her meals myself, to make sure no one slipped it into her food. I’ve checked the air flow, the water, everything I can think of. I’ve even scanned the room and found no traces of the poison anywhere.”

Nicoli considered Yanur’s words. He could think of a number of reasons why someone might want Katrina out of the way. But who wanted her out of the way enough to poison her? “Someone needs to stay with her all the time. Keep track of her visitors, what they do, when they come to see her, all of that.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Yanur offered.

“You can’t stay with her all the time,” Angel protested. “And you certainly aren’t planning to sleep with her, are you?”

A blush immediately stained Yanur’s cheeks. But before he could say anything, Angel continued. “I’ll stay with her at night.”

Nicoli wanted to object. His time with Angel was limited and he didn’t want to lose even a single night, but she was right.

“Who’s with her now?” Nicoli asked.

“Sorrah.”

“What’s she doing there?” Angel didn’t trust Sorrah as far as she could throw her.

“She gives Katrina massages, to help maintain her muscle tone. Those long periods of immobility have taken their toll, though you’d never know to look at her.” His voice drifted off as he stared off in the distance. Then suddenly, he glanced at them self-consciously as he cleared his throat. “Uh-hum. Excuse me. Well, I was just on my way to the kitchen to prepare Katrina’s evening meal, but I wanted to keep you updated on her progress.”

“Maybe I should go stay with her,” Angel started. “After all, you probably want a break. And you need to eat.”

“No, no.” Yanur’s reply came quickly. “Really, I don’t mind staying with her tonight. And I thought that as long as I was preparing her meal, I’d fix one for myself and keep her company. So you needn’t worry about me.”

Angel smiled, then walked forward and gave Yanur a brief kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Nicoli moved to stand beside Angel. “I guess if you’re ready, we should go.”

Together they walked to the big dining hall. As before when he’d arrived to dine with the High Counsel, Nicoli and Angel were among the last to arrive.

“There you are,” the High Counsel said, coming to join them as soon as they entered the dining room. He motioned them to the table. Taking his place at the head, he gestured to his right. “Nicoli, you sit here, next to me. An‘jel, you will sit next to your husband.”

As soon as the High Counsel sat, the rest of the guests took their seats. Angel noticed that she was one of only four women in the room and each of the others was the official Consort of the man she accompanied. Angel would have liked to chat with them, but they sat too far away. With Nicoli deep in conversation with the High Counsel and the man to her right obviously not interested in talking to her, a mere woman, Angel had to be content studying the gathered crowd. Further down the table, Rianol caught her eye and gave her a warm smile which she returned, no longer feeling quite so alone.

Victor sat opposite Rianol and seemed to be engaged in an intense discussion with Pualson, one of the other advisors. From time to time, he would turn away from Pualson and speak to the consort sitting on his other side.

Angel noticed that when Sorrah walked into the room with a tray of food, her gaze traveled first to Victor. Angel thought she detected a flash of hurt, or irritation. Could it be that Sorrah was in love with Victor? If so, why had she made a pass at Nicoli? Had it been nothing more than an attempt to make Victor jealous? A case of unrequited love?

Angel might have been tempted to feel sorry for the woman had she not at that moment been standing beside Nicoli in a low-cut blouse gaping open to allow a full view of her charms as she leaned over him to serve him food. Angel felt an uncomfortable stab of jealousy, made worse when Nicoli didn’t seem to mind taking in the view.

Then it was Angel’s turn to be served and when she looked up into the serving girl’s face, Sorrah gave her a cold, knowing smile filled with unspoken challenge. Then she moved on and Angel looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the exchange.

Her gaze fell on Herrod, standing guard by the door.

His grin sent chills racing down her spine. Even when she turned away, she could feel his gaze boring into her.

“What’s the matter?”

Nicoli’s quiet voice in her ear made her jump.

“Nothing,” she muttered, afraid he might start trouble if he knew.

“Aren’t you hungry? You’re picking at your food.”

“I’ve lost my appetite.” Unable to stop herself, she glanced again at Herrod. This time, Nicoli followed the direction of her gaze.

“Is he bothering you?”

“He’s just trying to get a reaction.”

“If he keeps it up, he’s going to get a reaction he’s not expecting.”

Angel laid her hand on Nicoli’s arm. “Please don’t make a scene. We can’t let him distract us from our purpose here.”

Nicoli nodded, but didn’t look happy. The rest of the meal passed slowly for Angel and even after it was over, Nicoli made no attempt to leave.

“Thank you, Gil’rhen.” Nicoli finally said to her grandfather after most of the other guests had gone and the three were walking from the room. “The meal was outstanding.”

They had reached the High Counsel and as the two men shook hands, Angel felt Herrod’s gaze like prickles across her skin. She tried to resist glancing at him, but the temptation proved too much.

Her glance met with a knowing smirk, as if he’d known she would look. Then he pursed his lips and sent her a kiss that promised horrible things if he ever caught her alone. Angel shuddered with disgust. The threat wasn’t as effective on her as it might have been on a female who hadn't fought off Free Rebels, but she still gave it a healthy dose of respect.

She didn’t realize she’d inadvertently tightened her grip on Nicoli’s hand until she heard the low growl beside her. Nicoli released her and before Herrod could react, Nicoli relieved the man of his weapon and with his arm pressed against the guard’s throat, pinned him to the wall.

The other guards rushed forward to defend their captain, but the High Counsel waved them back.

“Don’t ever let me catch you looking at my wife again.” Nicoli bit out between clenched teeth, his face close to Herrod’s. “Don’t look at her, don’t be in the same room with her. Hell, don’t even think about her. Understand?”

For a moment, Angel thought Herrod would defy Nicoli, but something must have shown in Nicoli’s eyes because the guard nodded. Nicoli, almost reluctantly it seemed to Angel, lowered his arm and took a step back.

Herrod made a show of straightening his clothes. Then his gaze fell to his weapon, still clutched in Nicoli’s hand. “What about my blade?”

Nicoli didn't say a word. With his free hand, he ushered Angel through the door, still watching Herrod. Just before he stepped out of the room, he handed the blade to one of the lesser guards standing nearby. As the door shut behind them, the High Counsel’s voice could be heard, requesting, in a most forceful manner, that Herrod remain behind.

“Do you think he’ll come after us?” Angel asked as they walked back toward their room.

“I don’t think he’s that stupid.”

“Well, if he is, I’ll be ready.” She flicked her wrist to release her hidden laser so it slide into her hand. “Never leave home without it.”

“Let’s hope you don’t have to use it. I hear the laws here are very strict, especially for women.”

“That’s true,” she said, sullenly. “Women must obey men in all things. It’s the first rule in the Coronadian Code of Social Conduct.”

“Which in the twisted logic of this culture means that there’s no such thing as self-defense for a woman.”

“You could order me to defend myself by any means necessary," she suggested.

He smiled. "Consider yourself so ordered.”

They reached their room and went inside. Angel had promised to stay with her mother that night, but now wanted only to stay with Nicoli. She wanted to lay beside him in their bed and let him make love to her. She wanted to know what it was like to fall asleep in his arms and then later to wake in them. The memories she created now would have to last her a lifetime.

She knew the more time she spent with him, the harder it would be to walk away in the end - and walking away from Nicoli was seeming less and less appealing all the time. Her emotions, her feelings, her plans, her very life had become one jumbled, confusing mess.

“I should go,” she said.

Nicoli looked at her from where he stood across the room. “Okay. I’ll walk you to your mother's room.”

“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “It’s okay.” She needed to be alone, to think.

Nicoli studied her. “I don’t think you should walk these corridors alone.”

“I don’t think Herrod - or anyone else - will be stupid enough to hurt me now. Not after what just happened."

He came to stand in front of her, placing his hands on either side of her face. He dropped his lips to hers in a chaste, sweet, too brief kiss. When it ended, he didn’t pull away completely, but remained close enough that his breath fanned her face when he spoke. “I like knowing you’re safe. Let me walk with you.”

Angel smiled. “With you around, I won’t be able to think.” She gave his chin a quick kiss and stepped away from him, out of his influence. “Besides - as I keep reminding you - I can take care of myself.”

She left the room before she could change her mind and hurried along the hallways. She needed to be alone, just for a little while. There was so much she wanted to sort out.

Chapter 22

Brother Joh’nan was in his room, watching Brother Damon pace back and forth.

“We cannot let this man come in and ruin everything we’ve worked for,” Brother Damon said.

Brother Joh’nan gave a small smile. “Calm yourself. I have no intention of letting that happen.”

“But what are you going to do? What are we going to do?”

“We will eliminate him.”

“How?”

Brother Joh’nan considered various choices, each having distinct advantages and disadvantages. “I haven’t decided. In the meantime, I’ve heard that Katrina is getting better. I thought you had taken care of that?”

“I did.”

Brother Joh’nan looked at him questioningly until the man stopped his pacing and swung around to face him. He held his hand out in supplication, emitting a low sound of frustration. “I will. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.” Brother Joh’nan let his gaze travel over the other man’s body in appreciation. “Will you stay the night?”

Brother Damon scowled before he shook his head “Not tonight. If you want Katrina taken care of, then I have to go make other arrangements.”

* * * * *

Herrod turned the corner and started down another hallway, checking doors and windows as he went to make sure the palace was secure. He was a Master Guard, Head of Security. He shouldn't have to make these rounds personally, but the High Counsel had insisted on it because that bitch had broken into the castle without anyone noticing. She'd made a fool out of him.

Just as the off-worlder had. It wouldn’t happen again, though. He turned the corner of the next corridor and hurriedly took a step back.

An'jel was there, walking his way. She was alone - and she hadn't seen him.

A smile crept to his lips.

He waited where he was, the sound of her footsteps growing louder as she drew closer. He waited until she'd almost reached the corner, before stepping out.

When she saw him, she froze. Her eyes grew large and round, like trapped prey watching the predator as it closed in for the attack. He gave a low laugh, enjoying her helplessness. She took a tentative step back and he countered it by stepping forward. He waited until she stepped back again, as he knew she would, and again he countered, continuing their dance.

He would have her. With that thought in mind, Herrod let his eyes stray momentarily from her face to her breasts, and he licked his lips. Yes, he would have her. She would fight him, but it would only add to his excitement. Feeling his arousal pressed against his pants, he knew he could not wait.

Just before he lunged, he saw the light in her eye change and felt searing hot pain across his shoulder.

"What?" He looked down and saw she held a small laser.

He would not be Master Guard if a mere woman bested him so easily. Moving with a speed few could match, Herrod closed the distance between them and kicked the laser from her hand.

Then he lunged for her. She fought well, he thought distantly. Better than most women could. The bitch dragged her nails across his wounded shoulder and for a moment he was distracted by the shards of pain shooting down his arm. Too late, he saw her raised knee. When it connected to his crotch, the white-hot pain sent him to his knees.

She gave him no quarter as she rammed the palm of her hand into his nose, breaking it. In blind fury, he reached out for her, pawing the air. His arms found nothing and when he could finally open his eyes, he saw that she was gone.

He lifted his hand to his nose. It was broken. Pressing both hands against either side of it, he drew a deep breath and gave a quick movement of his hands, realigning the cartilage. The sharp pain made his eyes water and when he pulled his hands away, they were covered in blood. His blood.

He swore, reaching out to support himself against the wall until the pain in his groin subsided. A dark object caught the corner of his eye and he turned to look at it, recognizing the laser.

Still bent over, he shuffled the small distance to the weapon. He reached out, but before he could grab the weapon, another hand retrieved it.

Puzzled, he looked up. “You!”

“I told you to leave her alone or you would pay.”

The last thing Herrod saw was a bright flash of light from the laser’s barrel. By the time the pain in his forehead might have registered in his brain, it was already fried.

* * * * *

Angel was shaking when she reached her mother’s room. Inside, Yanur sat in a nearby chair while her mother slumbered peacefully in bed. At Angel’s entrance, Yanur looked up with a smile on his face. It quickly turned to a frown.

“What happened?” He rose from the chair and came to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, I’m okay.” There would be no point in worrying Yanur. “How’s Mom?”

Yanur’s expression softened as he looked at the sleeping woman. “She’s fine. I’m afraid I kept her awake too long today talking. She was pretty tired.”

“Thank you for staying with her.”

Yanur reached out and took Angel’s hand, patting it in a fatherly way. “My pleasure. Will you be okay? I could stay.”

“No. We’ll be fine. Thank you.” She watched him walk to the door.

“All right then. Goodnight.”

“‘Night, Yanur.”

Angel stood in the middle of the room and as the adrenaline left her body, she felt emotionally and physically drained. Suddenly too tired to stand, she glanced at the chair beside the bed. She collapsed into it, resting her head against the back and closing her eyes.

In her mind, she replayed Herrod’s attack and realized how close she'd come to getting raped, maybe even killed. It left her feeling vulnerable and alone.

She eyed her mother’s sleeping form and almost unaware that she was doing so, rose from her chair and moved to the bed. Picking up the extra blanket, she lay down beside her mother, who stirred slightly with the dipping of the mattress.

“It’s all right, Momma. It’s me, Angel.”

Her mother opened a sleepy eye. “Oh, my Angel. Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yes, Momma, I did.”

“It’s okay honey. You’re safe now.” She reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair from Angel’s face. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Angel knew her mother was not really awake, and maybe that was why she felt comfortable telling her. In the morning, her mother would not remember. Speaking softly, she told how Herrod had been harassing her and how she’d run into him in the hall. How they’d fought and she’d injured him and run. Finally, she told her mother how she was afraid to go back.

Angel’s voice trailed off as she thought back to all the times in her life when she’d been afraid. Fear had made her stronger, but what she wouldn’t give right now to have a few moments of absolute security.

Her mother’s eyes remained closed, but her hand moved to pat Angel’s arm as she had when Angel was young.

“Daddy can sleep in the other room. You stay with me tonight. No more nightmares, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her mother squeezed her arm one last time before drifting back to sleep.

“I love you, Momma.” Angel closed her eyes and let the night take her.

* * * * *

Nicoli woke early the next morning. He hadn't slept much the night before for the simple reason that he missed Angel. Not wanting to spend even one more minute without her, he dressed quickly and left the room.

Navigating the labyrinth of hallways was getting easier as he learned his way around and at this early hour, there was no one else around to impede his progress. Already his thoughts were on what he'd say to Angel when he saw her and for that reason, he was nearly upon the body lying in the hallway before he recognized what it was.

For the briefest moment, he worried it might be Angel, but on closer look, he saw it was a man.

Placing his fingers to the man's throat, he felt for a pulse and found none. The man was dead.

Rolling the body onto its back, Herrod's lifeless eyes stared out of a face grown slack in death. A single laser shot to the forehead was the obvious cause for his state of being. A broken nose, bloodied and swollen, suggested Herrod had fought with his killer before being shot and a strip of charred flesh and blood across his right shoulder said the killer had missed his first shot.

Nicoli felt no remorse at the man's death, but his concern for Angel increased exponentially. Lasers were not a common weapon in the House of Scyphor with the Coronadians preferring warring blades and the only one Nicoli had seen since his arrival was Angel's. Had she run into Herrod last night on her way to her mother's room and been forced to kill him? It seemed the logical answer and Nicoli knew he needed to find her right away.

The sound of footsteps stopped him. Looking up, he saw the High Counsel approaching, surrounded by four guards.

"Colonel Romanof? Is there a problem?" The High Counsel asked, coming to a stop.

"There's been an accident," Nicoli replied, putting emphasis on the last word.

"Is that Herrod?” The older man's eyes narrowed as if he was trying to bring the dead man's face into sharper focus.

"It is," Nicoli confirmed.

At the High Counsel's gesture, one of the guards took a knee beside the body and checked it for signs of life. Nicoli could have told him it was futile.

"What happened?" the High Counsel demanded.

About to say he'd found the body like that, Nicoli's answer was cut off by one of the rear guard's shouts.

"High Counsel, I found something."

As one, the group turned to watch the guard pick something up off the floor.

The sight of Angel's small laser had fingers of dread closing around his heart, confirming his worst fear. He watched with little hope as the guard smelled the end of the barrel. The involuntary wrinkling of his nose told Nicoli he'd caught the noxious odor of charred tyrillium. The smell dissipated over time, so the fact that it was still present meant the weapon had been fired within the last eight to ten hours.

What time had Angel left him last night? It had been well within that window of time, he realized.

Crowds of people where gathering, curious to know what was going on. Among the throng of blond heads, a single brunette stood out. Catching sight of Angel walking toward them, Nicoli ran his gaze over her, searching for signs of injury. Other than looking tired, she seemed fine and the fingers around his heart eased their painful grip slightly.

As she drew closer, he saw she was accompanied by her mother and Yanur. Her expression brightened briefly when their gazes met. Then she noticed the body on the floor and all the color drained from her face.

"Colonel Romanof," the High Counsel was saying, his voice rising above the noise of the crowd. "Is this your weapon?"

Did you kill Herrod? That's what the High Counsel was really asking him. Did you kill Herrod and then toss your weapon aside in an effort to hide your actions? The accusation that he would commit cold-blooded murder (for there were no marks on him to suggest it was self-defense - nor were there marks on Angel, from what Nicoli could see) and then follow the heinous deed with the cowardly act of throwing away his weapon in hopes of escaping blame was offensive. Any other time, he would defend his honor. Now, honor demanded he defend someone else.

"Yes, it's mine."

Chapter 23

Amid the murmurs of the crowd, Nicoli heard Angel’s gasp. “No.”

“Colonel Romanof,” the High Counsel began. “Was this a case of self-defense?”

Immediately Advisor Pualson stepped from the crowd. “Colonel Romanof seems remarkably unharmed.” He looked pointedly at Herrod’s battered and beaten body. “I submit that it could not have been self-defense.” He leveled a hostile glare at Nicoli. “I submit that we are dealing with murder.”

Others in the crowd quickly took up the argument. The High Counsel studied Nicoli’s face, perhaps waiting to see if Nicoli would refute the accusation. He remained quiet.

“He must be punished,” someone from the crowd yelled.

“He is no longer worthy to be Counsel-elect,” cried another.

Victor spoke then, a smug expression on his face. “His marriage to the Consort-elect, granddaughter to the High Counsel, must be annulled.”

Nicoli watched the High Counsel weighing Victor’s words. Then a new voice spoke from the crowd. A woman’s voice.

“Herrod attacked my daughter.” Katrina, supported by Yanur, stepped forward. “Earlier tonight, he sprang on her, intent on raping her. She fought to defend herself and escaped, with Herrod alive. She came to me and has been with me since. Our laws dictate that should a protected woman be attacked, the attack is also against the man who protects her. My daughter is under the protection of two men. When Herrod attacked my daughter, he also attacked her husband, the Counsel-elect. And he attacked the High Counsel himself. The penalty for such an attack is death.”

A low murmur settled over the crowd.

"Is this true, An'jel?" the High Counsel asked.

"Yes," Angel said, moving to stand beside Nicoli. "Herrod attacked me and I fought back, but he was alive when I left him."

"Then justice has been served and it doesn't matter who dealt it," the High Counsel announced. Nicoli, who'd been studying Angel, turned to the High Counsel in surprise and almost missed the smile he quickly hid. “This matter is thus resolved. Dispose of the body before it stinks up my palace.”

He waved a hand and two guards swiftly moved to comply.

After they carried away the body, the High Counsel turned to address the remaining members of the crowd. “Colonel Romanof and his friend Mr. Snellen will be accorded the full hospitality of my people. We owe them a debt of gratitude for returning my granddaughter to her home and for restoring my daughter’s health. I would be gravely upset should any further “unfortunate incidences” occur with regard to either of them.”

With that, the High Counsel moved to his daughter’s side and took her hand in his. “I am much relieved to see you feeling better,” he said with a small smile.

“Thank you, Father.”

He gave her hand a final squeeze, released her and then walked from the scene. The rest of the crowd exchanged brief glances, and then dispersed.

Alone with Angel, Yanur and Katrina, Nicoli moved to take Katrina’s hand.

“Lady Katrina ToRrenc, I am Colonel Nicoli Alexandres Romanof of the United System of Planet’s Security Forces, husband to your daughter. It is an honor to make your acquaintance. I am most grateful for your timely recovery.”

“Colonel Romanof, Nicoli. It is I who thanks you. I thought my daughter was dead. I am overjoyed that she is not."

“As long as I am alive, I will protect your daughter.”

Katrina gave him a peculiar look, then smiled. “I believe you mean that.”

“Let me walk you back to your room, Katrina.” Yanur suggested. “You are recovering very quickly, but I don’t want to risk tiring you too soon.”

Katrina nodded.

“I’ll come visit after you’ve rested,” Angel promised, giving her mother a quick hug and kiss before she left.

Nicoli offered his arm to Angel when she turned toward him. He led them in the direction of their quarters. He wanted to make certain she was all right, and they needed to talk privately. He didn’t care if she didn’t like what he was going to tell her, it was for her own good. Until he could get her away from this planet, he planned to keep her with him at all times. It was the only way he knew to ensure her safety.

* * * * *

Brother Joh’nan paced the confines of his bedroom waiting for the knock he expected. When it came, he silently opened the door and stood back, allowing Brother Damon to enter. He closed the door as his visitor moved behind the bar at the far side of the room and began fixing a drink.

He shook his head to refuse the proffered glass of Wallachie tree ale, not wanting to dull his already dying senses with the powerful liquor. Brother Damon shrugged, then downed the contents himself. He refilled the glass to the top before corking the bottle and setting it aside.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” Brother Damon’s tone dripped with derision.

“What are you talking about?”

“The incident with that off-worlder and Herrod.”

“You had something to do with that? I thought when I saw you in the group of onlookers that you’d been drawn there by the noise as I was.”

“No, I was there last night when that idiot Herrod attacked An’jel. I waited to see if Herrod could kill her for us, but she got away. When I saw she’d left her laser behind, it occurred to me that I could rid us of two problems at once.”

“But Colonel Romanof spoiled your plan by taking the blame. Well, it doesn’t matter. You should have known the High Counsel would never allow his granddaughter to be put to death.” Brother Joh’nan moved away from the door, feeling every nerve in his body twitch as he walked to the bar. Even his hands shook as he placed them on the counter and leaned forward.

“Actually, that part of the plan worked fine. I counted on Romanof taking the blame, to protect her. With Herrod dead and Romanof executed for his murder, they’d both be out of our way.”

“We will deal with them but we must make sure our method is sound before we act. Which reminds me, you saw Katrina? She’s looking remarkably healthy for a dying woman, wouldn’t you say?”

Brother Damon glared across the bar at him. “With what we’ve given her, she should have died days ago. Romanof’s friend, Yanur Snellen, must be doing something. He spends a lot of time with her. He’s even preparing her meals. It’s getting more difficult to administer the poison.”

“Need I remind you that as long as she lives, she’s a threat to our plans?”

Brother Damon took another drink from the glass, then set it purposefully down on the counter. “I’ll take care of it.”

Brother Joh’nan sighed and pushed away from the bar to go sit on the edge of his bed. He dropped his head into the palms of his hands, feeling like the sudden pressure and weight of it was more than his neck could support. He was so weary. The last report on the construction of the new transfer plant suggested everything was on schedule, but right now the completion date seemed interminably far away. It would be ironic if, after surviving over a hundred years, searching for the means to immortality, he died before the dream could be realized.

He didn’t lift his head when Brother Damon spoke. “I’ll take care of it, Joh’nan.” This time, the words were not spoken defensively, but with a wealth of promise.

Brother Joh’nan raised his head to give his friend a smile. He knew Damon would do anything for him, as he would for Damon. For a few minutes, neither spoke.

Then Brother Damon walked over to the bed and sat down beside him. “I spoke to Brother Semuth today.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It seems that the High Counsel at the House of Danmoora has fallen ill. Brother Semuth feels it won’t be long before he’s able to step in and assume the position.”

“Excellent.”

Brother Damon put a hand on Brother Joh’nan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Everything is coming together as you planned. These few problems,” he waved his other hand generally in the air. “Minor obstacles, nothing more.”

Brother Joh’nan leaned into his friend, letting his head fall to the other man’s shoulder. “Damon?” He spoke wistfully. “Do you think we can keep Romanof’s body alive until the transfer unit is complete? He seems healthy and you have to admit, he’s reasonably attractive, in a dark sort of way.”

Damon’s arm moved about his shoulders and held him close. “If that’s what you want.”

Joh’nan took a deep breath, letting himself enjoy the moment.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Damon asked.

Joh’nan reluctantly raised his head and took a deep bracing breath. “No. I must use the rest of the night to study the old laws. There must be some way to eliminate Romanof without drawing a lot of attention to us.” He raised his hand to place the side of his fingers under Damon’s chin, then slowly drew the man’s face close to his own. Their lips met in a familiar kiss and lingered there for just a moment. Then Joh’nan drew back and gave his lover a sad smile. “You have other things you must do. I will see you later in the day.”

He stood and walked to his desk. Gazing out the window, he didn’t bother to turn around as Damon opened the door and left.

* * * * *

Nicoli held Angel beside him in bed. Though his body ached to join with hers, after such a long, restless night, they both needed their rest. So instead, he held her wrapped in his arms, her head nestled against his chest, feeling that as long as they could lie together like this, she would be safe.

He listened for the steady rhythm of her breathing that would tell him she slept, but heard nothing. “Are you all right?”

He felt her nod, but she didn’t say anything.

“What’s the matter?”

Then her voice came softly, almost as if she were afraid to speak. “Did you kill Herrod?”

It wasn’t what he expected. “No.”

“Then why did you say you did?”

“They found your laser and I wanted to protect you.”

She pushed against his chest until he loosened his arms and raised herself until she could look down into his face. “Nicoli. I was telling the truth back there. I didn’t kill Herrod.”

For a moment, he could only stare at her. Then he realized what worried her. “If I didn’t kill him, and you didn’t kill him…”

She nodded. “Then who did?”

It was a long time before either of them spoke again.

Nicoli pressed his lips to her head. “I wish we could stay like this all day, but I promised your grandfather that we would go check out a few more villages today.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. She didn’t want to be left behind again.

“So you better get dressed. We don’t have much time.”

Angel looked at him, afraid she had misunderstood. “I should get dressed?”

“Yes. You don’t think I’m going to leave you here, do you?”

It was all the encouragement she needed.

* * * * *

Ten hours later, Angel wasn’t feeling nearly as excited. She steered the shuttle across the planet’s surface, pulling up at the last minute to clear the tops of the first group of small mountain ranges that lay between the small colony they’d just left and the next one on their list. She knew she was cutting her maneuvers a little close and more than once, Nicoli frowned at her from the co-pilot’s seat. No doubt in an attempt to get her to slow their speed, but after a long, frustrating day of sitting on the ship while Nicoli and her grandfather wandered around the various villages, her grandfather’s white knuckled grip on the arms of his chair was her only source of entertainment. No way was she going to change how she was flying. This was too good an opportunity to let pass.

As if guessing the nature of her thoughts, Nicoli leaned close to whisper in her ear. “If you don’t slow down, I won’t bring you along on our next expedition.”

“That’s fine with me. All you’ve done so far is leave me on board. At least when I stayed at the palace, I had Victor to keep me company.”

Nicoli’s eyes grew dark, but he didn’t say anything more. They both knew he wouldn’t leave her behind.

They had spent the entire day investigating the remote villages that lay on the eastern perimeter of the Scyphor region. Angel had flown the Icarus to five different villages, and five times she had been sequestered to the ship while Nicoli and her grandfather had all the fun of looking for Harvesters. Now, at the end of the day, she was tired of the inactivity and feeling more than a tad contrary.

She pulled back more abruptly than necessary and sent the aircraft into a sharp climb over the mountains. Then as soon as they cleared the top, she executed a steep dive. She shot Nicoli a look that dared him to say anything, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

It had been a long, unproductive day. The two suns were beginning to set and they should have been heading back to the palace, but they’d picked up a possible lead in the last village. During one of the interviews, they’d learn that several members of the village had disappeared. In most cases, they were never seen again. One young man, however, claimed he spotted one of the missing villagers during a rare visit to the Colony of Queneth. He’d tried to talk to the man, but the man had grown agitated and run away.

The young man had followed him and eventually caught him. When questioned more forcefully, the man claimed he wasn’t who the young man thought he was and insisted on being left alone. The young man departed and made no further attempts to contact the man.

To Angel and Nicoli, the incident sounded suspicious, so instead of returning to the palace, they were flying to the Colony of Queneth.

Angel checked the navigrid and slowed the shuttle.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” she commented. “If we stay low, we can take the ship close to the outskirts without attracting too much attention.”

Her grandfather stretched forward, trying to get a better view of the village out the viewport. “Don’t expect too much. The last time I was here, the village was practically deserted. Nothing grows out here. Look around. Nothing but rock.”

“Still, I think it’s worth checking out,” Nicoli said.

Angel landed the ship and after securing the controls, followed Nicoli and her grandfather to hatch. “I want to go with you.”

“No.” Nicoli and her grandfather spoke at once. They gave each other a look that Angel interpreted as two males judging each other’s right to issue such commands. She almost expected them to square off and started beating their chests.

At the hatch door, Nicoli paused before releasing the lock. “Angel, for once, please do what I tell you. Stay here where I know you’ll be safe.”

“But what if you run into trouble? I'm not so bad in a fight.”

“No one would dare harm the High Counsel,” her grandfather proclaimed.

Angel snorted. “If these villagers are Harvesters, I don’t think they’ll be impressed.”

Her grandfather looked stunned, then shook his head almost sadly. “You have no respect for authority. I should never have left you out there on your own for so long.”

Ignoring him, Angel turned to Nicoli. “Take me with you. You need me.”

Nicoli took the few steps that separated them to stand in front of her. He lightly gripped her upper arms with his hands so he could hold her still. He bent his head close and when he whispered, his breath sent tingles down her spine.

“I do need you. And that’s why you must stay here. If we run into trouble, I want to know you’re safe.” He lightly kissed the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Stay here. If we don’t come back in an hour, go back to the palace and get help. I may need you to rescue me. Again.”

She looked deep into his eyes, willing him to see in her gaze how much she cared for him. “Be safe.”

He nodded and released her. He started to turn, but stopped like he’d forgotten to tell her something. She waited expectantly but not for long because he suddenly pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him. This time his kiss wasn’t light and quick. His lips took hers in a long, heated, hungry kiss that made time and circumstances disappear. All her senses focused on the feel of his lips pressed firmly against hers.

Then she was alone. Nicoli and her grandfather had left the ship and disappeared into the growing darkness.

Chapter 24

“Clever ruse.” The High Counsel sounded grudgingly impressed.

“What’s that?”

“How you handled An’jel. I must remember that tactic in my future dealings with women.”

Nicoli remained silent, pretending to study the landscape. He wasn’t about to admit to the High Counsel that his kissing Angel had not been a conscious manipulation. When she’d followed them to the hatch, he’d seen her lips set in that defiant way he’d come to know so well. At that moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to make love to her until every part of her yielded willingly, eagerly to him. He'd wanted her to know how much she'd come to mean to him and how he'd do anything to keep her safe. So he'd kissed her, trying to convey all of his unspoken thoughts into those kisses - and then he'd really kissed her, just in case he never saw her again.

“This village looks smaller than the others,” Nicoli said, changing the topic. “It shouldn’t take us long to walk the entire length and back.”

As they had flown by, Nicoli had noticed that this village was similar to the others in that a small public square was situated in the very center with the rest of the village built around it. The buildings were built predominantly from wood and rock and there would be just enough technology to make living conditions tolerable.

Nicoli and the High Counsel walked along the main path that led into town. Over the horizon, the suns were beginning their final descent and the surrounding fields were bathed in a soft orange glow. Nicoli couldn’t help but admire the pure simplicity of life these villagers enjoyed.

The village was less than two kilometers away when Nicoli stopped, his attention fixed on a field of dark green leafy plants. “I thought you said nothing grew out here.”

Gil’rhen came to a halt beside him. “Is that a field of long beans?”

“And over there,” Nicoli pointed to the opposite field. “That looks like honey melons. They look pretty healthy too.”

“Interesting.” Gil’rhen looked thoughtful. "They certainly seem to be doing better than reports have led me to believe."

"Let’s keep going and see what we can find out.”

There weren’t many homes along the road into town and they didn’t encounter anyone along the way. Lanterns stood along the roads casting out small patches of light and revealing an unusually clean village with streets and homes in good repair.

The village seemed unusually quiet and empty of people, until they drew closer to the public square. The few people they encountered gave them a wide berth. Nicoli found it a bit strange that no one approached to welcome them or, conversely, to challenge their reason for being there. At the other villages, the High Counsel had been recognized immediately and crowds had gathered around him. No one here seemed to know who he was.

Nicoli glanced at the older man to gauge his reaction. His expression revealed none of his thoughts.

They continued until they reached the public square and now were drawing more attention from the villagers who were about.

“You should have worn a cap or something to hide your dark hair,” Gil’rhen said just loud enough for Nicoli to hear. “Your coloring is unusual on our planet and seems to draw attention.”

Nicoli looked around. Several of the townspeople were indeed staring, but he wasn’t convinced they were looking at him. He slowed his pace and allowed the older man to draw ahead while he studied the faces of the villagers. The staring eyes moved ahead of him.

Nicoli quickened his pace to catch up to the High Counsel. “It’s not me they’re staring at, old man.”

“Are you being disrespectful, Colonel?”

“No, sir. Making an observation. Look around. Do you see anyone who looks to be older than around forty? And you'll notice there are no children about.”

The High Counsel looked intrigued. “I see what you mean. Very unusual. So you think we found what we were looking for?”

Nicoli shook his head. “I’m not ready to go there yet. Let’s find the local pub. Maybe we’ll pick up some useful information there.”

* * * * *

Angel finished her snack and went back to the bridge. She considered pacing the entire length and breadth of the ship, but having done it so many times already today she thought she might go crazy if she did it again.

Instead she went back to the bridge to stare out the front view screen. There was no sign of Nicoli or her grandfather. She checked her watch and realized they’d only been gone thirty standard minutes.

She leaned back in the pilot's seat, trying to convince herself to be patient. She wasn’t used to such inactivity. She wanted to be where the action was. She wanted to be with Nicoli and know he was safe.

Angel switched her gaze to the instrument panel, hoping for something to take her mind off how bored she was. A light on the panel held her mesmerized. Her eyelids grew heavy and her thoughts became less focused.

Suddenly, she jerked wide awake. The clock on the instrument panel showed that she’d only slept for a couple of minutes, ten at the most. Looking out the front view screen, she saw that the suns had fallen below the horizon and it was fully dark. It was still too early to worry about Nicoli and her grandfather, so what had awakened her?

She hadn’t turned on the ship's interior lighting and was thinking of doing so, when she heard it. A faint thrumming noise.

Angel held very still and listened. It was not a sound heard often on Coronado, but it was one with which she was all too familiar - the sound of a spaceship.

Angel ran a perimeter scan around the Icarus, widening the scan area until the other ship showed up on the screen. It was less than twenty-five kilometers away.

Angel wondered what she should do. The presence of another ship, while unusual, could mean nothing at all. The bad feeling in the pit of her stomach argued differently.

She considered moving the ship to avoid detection, but what if Nicoli and her grandfather returned, pursued by hostile Harvesters? They would have counted on the ship being where they'd left it.

She would stay. Checking the pulse cannons, she found them fully charged. If the other ship came too close and proved hostile, she’d do her best to blow it away.

With one hand poised above the pulse cannon controls, she watched the other ship crest the last mountain range. It was too far away for her to see through the view screen, so she did what she hated most. She waited.

Fight or flight; that she understood.

The blip drew nearer, then veered off toward the village. Angel watched for another minute or two, and then the blip stopped and didn’t move again. It had landed.

Dropping her hands into her lap, she sat back and released her breath in a sigh. The relief she felt was quickly replaced by curiosity. The presence of a shuttle at one of these smaller villages was highly unusual. Why would one be here, at this remote site, this late at night?

There were several answers that came to mind, but most seemed far-fetched. The one she found most plausible was the one she liked the least – which was that this was the Harvesters’ village and the aliens had maintained off-world connections and technology.

If she tried contacting Nicoli over the comm-link, the other ship would be alerted to their presence. She could do nothing and wait for Nicoli to return, but the other ship might not stick around and they might miss an important clue in their search for the Harvesters. Someone needed to investigate it now and she was the only candidate.

Nicoli’s words echoed in the back of her mind, telling her once again to stay put.

Just a quick look, she promised herself as she headed for the hatch.

* * * * *

“It’s time!”

The man’s announcement was immediately met with a hum of excited whispers as everyone in the pub suddenly rose and filed outside. For a moment, Nicoli and Gil’rhen were left staring at each other in bewilderment. What was going on?

“Shall we?” Gil’rhen set the newly purchased glass of ale down and rose from his seat. Nicoli took a final swallow and followed after him. So much for sitting quietly at the pub and listening to surrounding conversations for information.

Outside, it seemed the entire village populace was moving toward the same destination. Curious, Nicoli and Gil’rhen trailed after them. No one seemed to notice the two outsiders. Nicoli strained to overhear snatches of conversation around him, but nothing made much sense.

“...the first to go...”

“...have studied the procedure...”

“...been so long...”

Then he caught a familiar term.

“...how exciting for Brother Mart’n...”

“Careful.”

“I mean Marcina, how exciting for Marcina.”

“Yes, it’s a new beginning for us.”

Then in a hushed tone almost too quiet to hear, “Has anyone notified Brother Joh’nan?”

The whispered response came quickly.

“No. You know how he is. It's better if we do this on our own.”

Nicoli stopped listening. They'd found the Harvesters, he was sure of it. Did he alert Gil’rhen so they could head back to the ship? Or should he stay quiet in hopes of learning more.

Curiosity won out.

The villagers continued down the street until they reached one of the many homes where they stopped to gather in the front yard.

“What do you suppose is going on?” Gil’rhen leaned close to Nicoli so his words could be heard above the noise of the excited crowd.

Nicoli shook his head. “I have no idea.”

He casually scanned the crowd, studying expressions and gestures, hoping to learn something.

Suddenly a woman’s scream pierced the night. Nicoli tensed, searching for the source of danger, ready to meet it head on if necessary.

“They don’t seem alarmed,” Gil’rhen said, directing his attention to the crowd.

“No, they don’t, do they?” Nicoli found that odd. "In fact, several of them are smiling."

“Perhaps it's only a woman being punished.”

Nicoli was disgusted at the man’s casual assessment of the situation. “If a woman is being tortured inside, then I intend to put a stop to it.”

The woman’s scream came again and it was obvious this time that she was in extreme pain. Without waiting to see if the High Counsel followed him, Nicoli pushed his way through the crowd toward the house, wondering who and how many he would have to fight to get inside.

He had his warring blade strapped to his side. Unfortunately, so did almost every other male in the village and Nicoli doubted he could fight them all.

It was surprising to him then, when no one even tried to stop him when he entered the house. Once inside, Nicoli understood why. Everyone’s attention was focused on the woman lying in the center of the room on the floor. Her legs were spread wide and bent at the knees with only a thick blanket beneath her for padding. A man knelt between her legs and when he leaned forward, the woman screamed again.

Instinctively, Nicoli’s hand went to the hilt of his blade. A restraining hand stopped him.

“Wait.” The High Counsel had followed him inside and his attention was on the scene before them.

Nicoli would have argued, but just then a new sound filled the silence. It was the sound of a newborn’s cry.

It was met by a collective gasp from the crowd followed by an eruption of cheers, laughter and even weeping.

The man kneeling between the woman’s legs stood and turned. In his arms, he held the baby, turned so all could see. In that moment, Nicoli got a look at the woman on the floor. Her head rested in the lap of another woman, while two others held her hands. All the women were weeping, but they seemed to be tears of joy. Then the mother raised her hands up to receive her child.

“Marcina,” the man holding the baby said. “You have delivered to us a fine, healthy baby girl – the first child to be born to our kind in over a hundred years.”

The happy cheers of the gathered villagers drowned out anything else the man would have said. Nicoli allowed Gil’rhen to pull him through the crowd, back outside.

“Now is the time to strike, while they are preoccupied with the new birth.”

Nicoli stared at the High Counsel. The same thought had occurred to him, but that had been before he’d seen the sight of the newborn child and the happy faces surrounding it. These people weren’t concerned with taking over a new planet, or annihilating an alien race. They only wanted what every other being in the universe wanted: a chance to live a normal life, to have children and be happy.

“No,” he said. “These people are not our enemy. Let’s go back to the ship. I need time to think about this.”

Nicoli started down the street, but the High Counsel grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop.

“Colonel, need I remind you that this is my planet and my region. I will not allow this race of…of aliens to take up residence here.”

“High Counsel, now is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. The destruction of this village will accomplish nothing. The real danger is in allowing the Harvester leader to continue with his plans to take over your planet. Right now, we don’t know who that is. By the same token, he doesn’t know we’re looking for him. Destroying this village tips our hand and makes our search that much harder. Let me find the leader. Then we'll decide what's to be done with these villagers."

* * * * *

It took Angel almost fifteen minutes to find the spot where the shuttle landed. Her trek had taken her across several fields to the top of a small escarpment. She looked down into a large ravine and saw that someone had constructed a building at the bottom. There was with enough light streaming through its high set windows that Angel could just make out the shapes of several people unloading cargo from the shuttle parked beside it.

It was impossible to see what the cargo consisted of, so Angel started cautiously down the embankment. The darkness provided her the perfect cover, but it also made her descent more dangerous since the steepness of the embankment required she climb down rather than walk. Facing the rocky side, she searched first with her feet and then her hands for solid places to step and hold. Several times, her foot slipped, causing a shower of smaller rocks to rain down to the ground below. Each time she regained her balance and froze, waiting to be discovered, either from the sound of the rocks she’d dislodged or the pounding of her heart.

When she reached the bottom of the escarpment, she crouched low and waited in the shadows, pondering her next move. Going back to get Nicoli would have made sense, but she didn't want to take the time. So instead, she waited and watched.

Her patience was rewarded almost immediately when two men exited the large building and walked to the cargo ship, disappearing inside it.

A few moments later, they reappeared, each holding opposite ends of an anti-gravity pallet. Piled on top were various pieces of equipment. Though she couldn't be sure what their purpose was, the mere construction of the pieces suggested it was more advanced technology than any found on Coronado outside the ruling houses and flight towers and therefore not approved - hence the reason someone was trying to keep it a secret.

As the men disappeared inside the building, Angel crept over to the ship. She wanted to look inside it, but it was impossible to tell if anyone else was aboard without exposing herself in the process. It was a chance she’d have to take.

Staying low, she walked the length of the ship toward the open cargo bay studying the markings - or lack thereof - on the side panels. There was no name or call letters, which was common for ships that transported illegal goods and the information gave her no better clue whether this ship belonged to Harvesters or some other group.

She rounded the back of the ship just as the two men she’d seen earlier reappeared. Quickly shrinking back around the side, she listened for the men to board and leave with their next load.

Instead, what she heard was the sound of the cargo door closing and then, before she could formulate a plan, the engines fired to life cutting off any chance of searching the ship. Worse still, if she didn't make a run for it and risk the pilot seeing her, she was likely to get cooked alive when the heat from the under-thrusters hit her.

Not giving herself a chance to think about it further, she raced the distance from the ship to the building, staying as close to the side wall as possible and hoping to blend into the shadows.

Seconds later, the shuttle rose vertically into the air. The force of the thrusters against the ground caused a hailstorm of dirt and small pebbles. Covering her face with her hands, Angel turned her back to it, but there was no way to avoid getting hit and all she could do was grit her teeth against the biting pain until it was over.

Mercifully, the ship ascended quickly and soon disappeared into the night sky.

For a moment or two, Angel stood there considering her options. She could always return to the ship and wait for Nicoli. Together, they could come back and discover whatever was going on inside.

What was she thinking? Nicoli wouldn't let her come back. He'd insist she stay in the ship while he came back alone. To hell with that. She was perfectly capable of investigating the building and discovering its secrets by herself.

Angel searched the night sky and found it clear and open. No sign of the shuttle returning, but the fact that the men had left the building lights on suggested she wasn't alone in this ravine. She'd have to be careful.

Moving to the door through which the men had carried the equipment, she pressed her ear against it, listening for any sound on the other side. When she was met with continued silence, she tried the door handle. It turned easily.

Slowly, she pulled open the door, hoping no alarm sounded inside. There was no one visible, so Angel stepped inside. Well lit, the place had the clean white sterile feel of a research lab or medical facility. This made the small trail of dirty footprints on the floor stand out even more.

Assuming they belonged to the men from the shuttle, Angel decided to follow them in hopes they'd lead her to the equipment they'd just delivered. Maybe if she got a closer look at it, she'd know what it was for.

The footprints ran down the main hallway and she was careful to keep her own steps quiet as she followed them. Around her, the silence was oppressive, convincing her that despite the lights, she was alone in the building.

The trail was growing fainter but Angel was able to see where it turned down an intersecting corridor and then led into the first door on the left.

The minute she stepped into the room and looked around, she knew she'd found what they were looking for. All around her stood empty gurneys like those she and Nicoli had laid on back at the Harvesters’ main processing building. Thankfully, these gurneys were empty. But for how long?

Looking around, she spotted a pallet of equipment against the side wall. She assumed it was the one she'd seen delivered. On the adjacent wall, opposite the door through which she'd entered, stood a second door.

Crossing to it, she pressed her ear against it to listen for sounds coming from the other side. When she heard only silence, she tried the knob and found the door unlocked. She supposed the Harvesters didn't expect anyone to know about their facility, much less go snooping through it.

Beyond the door was another room. This one had a medical exam table in the middle of the room with a gurney sitting beside it. Beyond the table, against the far wall, was a counter, on top of which sat an array of equipment. The equipment and the room looked familiar and she knew exactly where she'd seen it before; this was the same setup as in the lab at the Harvesters' main processing building where she and Nicoli had found the computer.

This was life essence transfer equipment!

She had to tell Nicoli. She turned to leave and in doing so, noticed that her shoes had tracked in dirt. Unlike the other footprints which led only to the pallet of equipment and back out, hers trailed about the room. There was no reason for the Harvesters to suspect anyone other than one of their own made the prints, so she didn't give them more than a passing worry as she hurried from the room. She headed directly back to the door through which she'd entered, but upon reaching it, she hesitated before opening it.

What if the shuttle had returned?

She spared a glance at the nearest window, thinking maybe she could look through it to check, but it was too high up. Feeling the weight of time running out pressing upon her, she decided to take her chances and opened the door.

She was in luck. There was no shuttle.

Hurrying outside, she crossed the open area to the escarpment where she began climbing. She ignored the scratches and scrapes as she groped for handholds to support herself while her feet fumbled for toeholds. She felt certain that Nicoli and her grandfather would have returned to the ship by now and noticed her absence. The sooner she returned and told them what she'd found, the sooner they could return.

The climb back up seemed interminable and several times, Angel found herself leaning precariously to the side in search of a hand or foot hold. By the time she reached the top and dragged herself over the top onto level ground, she was breathing hard and the palms of her hands and her knees were scratched and bleeding.

She only gave herself a minute to recover before she was on her feet; then suddenly she realized she wasn't sure in what direction to head. Worse still, when she'd set out from the ship, she'd had the dying light of the two suns to light her way. Now the suns had set and each step away from the ravine carried her further into the dark abyss of night.

The memory of hiding in a small closet rose up sharply, along with the bitter taste of fear.

I am not that little girl anymore.

The knowledge did little to soothe her.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and thought back to the route she'd taken after leaving the ship. She'd cut straight across the open fields until she'd reached the ravine. When she'd looked down, the warehouse had been slightly to her right. Since she had just climbed up directly in front of the warehouse, it stood to reason that she had only to head off to her left to be on the correct path back.

She opened her eyes and the darkness seemed less oppressive, so she headed off to the left. She'd only taken four or five steps when, on the next step, she went to put her foot down and there was no ground. As her foot dropped into the crevice, her momentum carried her forward and she fell, hitting the ground hard and twisting her ankle.

Pain lanced up her leg and prickled the palms of her hands where she had scraped them. Perched at an awkward angle, she realized that her foot was stuck in the crevice. Gritting her teeth, she used her hands to push herself into a standing position and tried to pull her foot free. It wouldn’t budge.

She threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of helpless frustration.

Could things get any worse?

She should have known they could.

Off in the far distance came the sound of a ship. If it was the cargo shuttle returning, they would use the ship’s perimeter lighting to help them land in the valley beyond the escarpment and she was standing too close to the edge for them not to see her.

With renewed vigor, she pulled at her foot, trying to free it. She bent over and clawed at the rocks, ignoring the way the hard dirt and rocks tore her skin.

Suddenly, a beam of light hit her with an intensity that blinded her. Instinctively, she threw her arms up to shield her face and realized with a sick feeling that she'd been spotted.

Chapter 25

The beam of light bobbed but otherwise remained fixed on her so she couldn't see beyond it to the ship. She silently chastised herself for not being more alert. She never even heard it land.

Then she heard the crunch of gravel beneath booted feet and felt an icy cold dread course through her. What would they do to her? Kill her on the spot? Turn her into a donor?

She could try to fight them off, but with her foot stuck, the fight was lost before it'd even begun.

“Good God, woman. You’ll be the death of me yet.”

Angel’s knees almost buckled in her relief. “Nicoli?”

“What are doing out here?" He asked, nothing more than a disembodied voice.

“Not much, she replied, voice filled with sarcasm. "My foot’s stuck in these rocks.”

She heard Nicoli’s sigh. It sounded closer but she still couldn’t see him. It didn’t help that he was dressed in dark clothes. “Let me take a look.”

“No. Don’t turn on a light. They'll see.” Angel looked up to scan the horizon.

"Who'll see?"

"Listen. Do you hear that ship? It's transporting medical equipment to a warehouse at the bottom of a ravine not far from here. Nicoli - I found the Harvester's transfer facility. We don't want to be standing here when it flies overhead."

“Did it mean nothing to you that I ordered you to stay on the ship?"

"Did you hear what I said?" she countered. "Harvesters. Here."

"I know," he said, kneeling before her and sliding his hands down her calf to her ankle, exploring first one leg and then the other, until he determined by touch which foot was stuck. Despite the gravity of their situation, she thrilled at the warm roughness of his hands. "The entire village is made up of reborn Harvesters."

"We have to do something."

"We will, as soon as I figure out how to free your foot."

Nicoli’s hands left her foot to explore the surrounding rock, leaving her to feel bereft and cold. In the silence, the sound of the approaching aircraft grew louder.

“Is there any place to hide around here?” Nicoli’s voice sounded strained and she felt his hands working feverishly to dislodge rocks from around her foot.

“There’s an escarpment about five meters behind me and a line of trees about fifty meters to the left. Not much else.”

“How steep is the descent on that escarpment?”

“Steep enough, especially in the dark.” She glanced up once more to check on the ship’s progress. “Hurry, Nicoli!” The ship’s lights were visible now. It wouldn’t be long before it was directly overhead and she and Nicoli made easy targets.

A quick, painful, tug on her foot and it came free.

“Come on.” He grabbed her arm and started leading her back to the ravine. The moment she put weight on her injured foot, intense pain shot through her ankle and it refused to hold her weight. She stumbled and only Nicoli’s grip on her arm kept her from falling.

Draping her arm around his neck, Nicoli held her by the wrist to keep the arm from slipping and then wrapped his other arm around her waist. In this way, he shouldered most of her weight and they moved with surprising speed toward the escarpment.

Reaching the edge, they stopped. The lights from the warehouse were visible below but their illumination didn’t reach all the way up the escarpment. The top few meters were treacherously hidden in shadow.

Nicoli released Angel's wrist to grab his searchlight which he directed downward. He flipped it on and then almost immediately off. How he saw anything in those few moments, Angel had no idea, but they were out of time.

The drone of the ship’s engines was loud enough that Angel didn’t need to turn around and look for the ship’s lights to know how close it was, but she couldn't help herself. The ship’s landing lights cut a serpentine path across the surface of the field with each sweep of light just a little closer than the last.

Then suddenly, Angel was pulled off balance, over the edge of the cliff. Her scream was cut short as she somehow landed on her feet with Nicoli’s body pressing her into the face of the cliff. A gust of wind buffeted them as the ship roared past them.

Unable to look away, Angel watched the ship descend. The canons on such a shuttle were intended for use on other ships and the crew must have known better than to discharge them in the tight confines of the ravine. That didn't mean the crew wouldn't pull other weapons to use on them as soon as they landed.

The ship continued past them, the heat of its thrusters blasting them like a desert storm. Angel held on, her face buried in Nicoli's shoulder to protect it from flying debris. She could just catch the smell of the soap he'd used that morning and she inhaled deeply, letting the scent soothe her. She found herself thinking she could stay like this forever.

Then the ship descended past them, further down into the ravine and Nicoli eased himself back from her, letting the cooler night air between them.

"Are you okay?" she asked him in a hushed voice. He may have protected her from the flying debris, but he'd had nothing to protect himself.

"No permanent damage," he assured her, his attention on what was happening below.

The ship’s hatch opened, spilling more light into the basin. Two men emerged guiding an anti-gravity pallet bearing items. It was impossible from this distance to tell if they were the same men Angel had observed earlier that evening or even what they were carrying. It didn't matter though since she'd already been inside once.

“You shouldn’t have gone in there without me.” Nicoli’s whisper brushed warmly against her ear. His tone clearly suggested that he did not approve of her actions. “What if they'd caught you?”

“They didn't, ok? And you're with me now. What are we going to do?” When he didn't respond immediately, she went on. "Do you have any explosives on your ship? We could wait until the ship leaves and then blow up the facility – destroy all the equipment. My grandfather will send warriors to deal with the villagers."

Nicoli only nodded, his eyes still watching the activities below.

“What’s the matter?”

He glanced at her in surprise, then shook his head. “It's something I saw in the village. I'll tell you about it later. For now, though, you're right. We need to do something about that facility - and an explosion might be what we need to flush out the Harvester leader and force him to expose himself."

Nicoli’s voice drifted off as he fell into thought, leaving Angel to focus on her ankle, which throbbed painfully. Afraid to move, lest they draw attention to themselves, they remained where they were and watched until the men below finished unloading the ship.

Closing the shuttle doors, they carried their last load into the warehouse. A few minutes later, the lights blinked out inside the warehouse. The shuttle's landing lights still provided enough illumination that Angel could see when the two men exited the warehouse and returned to their ship.

“I guess they’re not coming back tonight,” Angel observed.

As the ship lifted off, Nicoli once again pressed himself against Angel, blocking her from the buffeting heat and debris. They remained in that position until the ship cleared the ravine and the sound of the ship's engines faded into the night.

“Wait here.” Nicoli’s words seemed unusually loud in the sudden stillness.

“What are you going to do?”

“Shake things up.” He flipped on the searchlight and started down the escarpment. "This won't take long."

Angel’s foot and ankle hurt too much to protest, so she eased herself into a sitting position and resigned herself to wait. With each step down the steep embankment, Nicoli took the light further away. When he reached the bottom, Angel saw him walk to the building and try the door. It opened and he disappeared inside. As the door fell shut, the night enveloped her.

Once or twice while she waited, Angel pressed her fingers against her ankle in an attempt to relieve the pain. Each time she did, her ankle seemed more swollen, leaving her to dread the long walk back to the Icarus. The only thing she looked forward to less than that walk was the lecture she was sure to get from Nicoli for disobeying his orders.

It seemed a long time before she heard the sound of the warehouse door opening. Then Nicoli flipped on the searchlight and quickly climbed up the escarpment to where she sat.

“Time to go.” He offered her a hand up, for which she was grateful because she wasn't sure she could've stood without help. Her foot was killing her and she groaned out loud when she tried to put her weight on it.

“Can you walk?” Nicoli asked, shining his light on her ankle which was now swollen to twice its normal size.

“I’ll try.”

“Come on. I’ll help you.” Handing her the searchlight, he once again draped her free arm around his shoulders, put an arm around her waist and started up the escarpment. Nicoli moved quickly as he maneuvered them upward and by the time they reached the top, despite the cool breeze blowing, he and Angel were both sweating.

“Can we rest a minute?” Angel asked, trying to catch her breath. She knew Nicoli heard her, but he didn't stop. He kept them walking across the rocky surface, away from the ravine. Angel did her best to keep up, but the pain was becoming excruciating.

“I can’t go on, Nicoli. I’m so sorry, but I have to rest.”

“There’s no time, Angel.” His tone was affectionate but urgent. “We have to get further away.”

“Why? I don’t think the shuttle is planning to return tonight.”

“No time to explain.” Nicoli swept her up into his arms and strode across the field as she clung to him.

They left the rocky terrain around the escarpment and reached the grassy field.

When the explosion came, it shook the mountain. Nicoli fell to the grass and covered Angel with his body. Rocks and debris fell like a small meteor shower.

Nicoli remained on top of Angel for several minutes until the sound of falling debris subsided. Then he pushed himself up and off to one side so he wasn't crushing her.

“Are you all right?” His tone was tender as was the gaze he used to study her face. The brush of his finger against her cheek was as light and airy as the butterflies it evoked deep inside her.

"I'm...I'm fine," she assured him. "What...how'd you do that?"

He smiled. "What? You think you're the only one who knows how to blow shit up?"

* * * * *

“I heard an explosion.”

Nicoli ignored the High Counsel, pushing past the man in order to carry Angel to his cabin. He set her down on the edge of the bed and bent to remove her shoe. Even though he’d carried her most of the way, he worried that the walk back had done serious damage to her ankle. He undid the fastener, but couldn’t remove the shoe because of the swelling. Crossing to his desk, he opened the drawer and took out a knife.

“I’ll have to cut it off,” he said, coming back to stand before Angel.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “My foot?”

He smiled. “The shoe.”

“Oh. All right.”

Nicoli knelt before her and propped her foot on his knee to give him better access to the shoe. “Once the shoe is off, your foot will probably swell even more. When we get back to the palace, I’ll have Yanur look at it.”

“We have a palace physician.” The High Counsel spoke from the open doorway. “He will see to my granddaughter’s injury.”

“No.” Nicoli didn’t trust the palace physician.

“Nicoli, we need to get out of here before someone comes to investigate.” Angel sounded tired.

“I’ll see to this first.” He inserted the tip of the knife into the side of her shoe and applied pressure outward, neatly slicing through the side. He did the same on the other side and then sliced the top of the shoe open. Slowly he peeled it from her foot and tossed it in the corner.

“Okay. Shoe’s off. I’ll be okay, just get us out of here.” Angel reached out to touch his hand as he stood next to her. He didn’t want to leave her alone and it wasn’t solely because of her injury. He didn’t like leaving her with her grandfather and as unsettling as the thought was, he actually wanted to stay and take care of her.

“Go,” she ordered when he hesitated. He knew she was right.

He leaned down to speak softly in her ear. “I won’t be gone long. I’ll get us on course and then come back and check on you.” He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss too brief to get him into any real trouble, then walked to the bridge with the High Counsel hot on his trail.

Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Nicoli fired up the engines. A quick look at the perimeter scan revealed no other ships nearby.

So far, so good.

It would be nice to get back to the palace before the news broke. Then he’d get to see Victor’s reaction. The sooner he ended this mission, the sooner he could get Angel away from this place.

“What was that explosion?” The High Counsel spoke from behind him, reminding Nicoli of a gnat that wouldn’t go away. “I deserve to know what happened,” the gnat continued, moving to sit in the co-pilot’s seat.

Nicoli sighed. “We found a warehouse where the Harvesters were building a transfer facility. I thought I might get the Harvester leader’s attention if I blew it up.”

“Without consulting me?”

“I didn’t consider that necessary.”

“You didn’t consider it necessary?” The High Counsel’s voice rose. “Need I remind you that I am the High Counsel?”

“I don’t particularly care.” And he didn’t. Nicoli was physically tired from carrying Angel all the way back to the ship and had done his best to control the anger and fear still simmering from when he’d returned earlier and found her gone. He simply didn’t have the energy to be polite anymore.

He barely looked up when the old man stormed off the bridge. Nicoli was glad to have a moment to himself while he set a course for the palace.

Only after they were safely away from the colony, did Nicoli activate the autopilot. With the perimeter scan set to sound the alarm if company should appear, Nicoli felt he could leave the bridge to return to Angel.

Halfway down the hall, he heard the unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh. Running to his cabin, he found Angel sprawled across the bed, a hand pressed to her reddened cheek and her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, staring up at the High Counsel in childlike fear.

“You will not disobey orders again,” the High Counsel shouted, raising his hand. Nicoli took the last step needed to reach the old man and, grabbing the old man’s wrist in an iron-tight grip, Nicoli twisted his arm back at a painful angle.

“Don’t you ever touch my wife again, do you understand?” He growled the words in the old man’s ear.

The High Counsel grimaced, but did not cower. “Unhand me this instant. I am the High Counsel. She was instructed to stay on board and she chose to violate those orders. She must be disciplined.”

“Not by you.”

“I am the High Counsel. And I’m the oldest living male member of her house. It is my duty to see to her punishment.” The High Counsel twisted his head to glare at Nicoli in defiance.

“Perhaps you didn’t understand me.” Nicoli spoke slowly and distinctly. “Touch her again - in any way - and I’ll kill you. Do. You. Understand?”

It took great discipline to hold his anger in check and not carry through with his threat this instant. When he was certain that his point had been understood, he slowly released his grip, remaining alert to any sudden movements the older man might make.

The High Counsel glared first at Nicoli and then at Angel, before walking to the door. There he stopped and turned back to Nicoli.

“We have found the Harvesters and I will deal with them. Your services, and your presence, are no longer needed.”

After the High Counsel left, Nicoli went to Angel’s side. “Are you all right?”

She gave him a sad kind of smile. “You seem to be asking me that a lot lately.”

He smiled and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead, liking how the blond roots were finally growing in and wondered what she’d look like as a blonde.

“He caught me off guard,” Angel said, interrupting his thoughts. “Then it was like I was a kid again and I couldn’t think straight.”

Nicoli knelt beside the bed, pulling her into his arms and letting her head rest against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

“You couldn’t have known he would do that. He’s been so different lately. I thought he had changed. You know, softened with the years.” She sighed. “I guess he was just using you.” She lifted her head so she could look into his face. “We can’t trust him, you know that.”

“I know,” he agreed.

“I’m afraid you made an enemy of him. He’s not going to want you to be my husband anymore.”

Nicoli saw her lips tremble and his anger with the High Counsel tripled. “Let’s go back to the palace, get Yanur and my mother and leave.”

Nicoli shook his head. This wasn’t over as far as he was concerned. “I can’t. The Harvester threat can’t be eliminated until we discover their leader. I’m sorry, Kiera but I can't leave yet.”

Angel sighed. “I knew you’d say that.”

He smiled and stood. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come to the bridge and keep me company?”

Chapter 26

At the palace, Damon walked into Brother Joh’nan’s room and found his friend sitting in a chair, staring out the window into the pitch-black night sky.

“You’ve heard the news?” Damon knew he had when Brother Joh’nan didn’t even acknowledge his presence. “You haven’t given up have you? Because we can rebuild the transfer unit. It’s true that much of the equipment was destroyed, but I’ve already contacted Wright and told him to start acquiring replacement parts.”

Brother Joh’nan finally turned from the window to look up questioningly. “Wright?”

Damon felt another stab of concern. “Our courier.”

Joh’nan's brows furrowed, adding to Damon's growing concern.

"Joh'nan - are you all right?"

Joh'nan waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. My mind grows fuzzy from time to time, but then it passes. Wright, of course. I remember him."

The admission did little to comfort Damon. Joh’nan was the most intelligent man he’d ever known. He'd found a way to save their people, but was paying the price for the discovery with his life. If they moved up their plans to take over the Coronadian government, there might still be a chance to save him.

He walked over to put his hand on Joh’nan’s shoulder. “We’ll rebuild the unit and you can transfer into a new body. But Joh’nan, we must first eliminate those standing in our way. Now. We are out of time.”

“Always so anxious, my friend. Everything comes in good time.” Joh’nan smiled and laid his hand on top of Damon's. “It might please you to know that I've found a solution to our problem.”

Damon’s shock was immediate and he bent closer so he could see into Joh’nan’s face. “You have? What?”

“Oh, yes. I found it buried in the ancient laws. A contest of sorts. It requires the endorsement of a Quorum, but I don’t see that as being a problem.”

“What about the High Counsel? Can he stop it?”

Joh’nan seemed to consider the question. “He could, but he won’t. I don’t know what game the High Counsel has been playing, but I assure you that he has no intention of allowing Colonel Romanof to be his Counsel-elect.”

Damon pulled an extra chair over, turning it so he could sit facing the other man. “Tell me more.”

“Should we succeed, the House of Scyphor, and all the power that goes with it, will be ours."

Damon noted Joh'nan's hesitation. "But?"

"This plan is not without considerable risk to one of us.”

Damon considered this. “Is there no other way?"

Joh’nan shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Then we will do what must be done and hope the cost is not too great."

* * * * *

It was the middle of the night when Brother Damon returned to his room after secretly meeting with the individual high officials of the House of Scyphor. Their ignorance of life off Coronado and elsewhere in the universe was exceeded only by their paranoia over what havoc an off-worlder such as Colonel Romanof might cause should he become High Counsel. A few carefully phrased suggestions that played on their paranoia was all it took to secure their endorsement of his plan.

Now, sitting on the edge of his bed, too wired to sleep, he considered his next move. When the knock came at his door, he welcomed the interruption, knowing who stood on the other side of the door even before he opened it, and so the smile he pasted on his face was not altogether false.

“Victor, oh I have missed you.” Sorrah threw herself into his arms, sighing into his mouth as her lips met his.

He returned her kiss with an enthusiasm that still amazed him because he hadn't expected to find such pleasure with a woman.

Sorrah pulled away just enough to look into his face. “Tell me again,” she whispered.

He smiled indulgently. “I love you as I have loved no other woman.” He took perverse pleasure in the truth of his words.

“How much longer must we wait?”

Though he felt his body responding to hers, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand what she meant. “Not much longer now, I promise.”

She rewarded his answer by rubbing her body against his. “Good. When you are High Counsel, I will be the perfect High Consort for you. I will see to all of your needs.” She pressed her lips to his, suggesting just how she might see to his needs. When she pulled back, she seemed almost shy.

“What is it?”

“Do you think I could have my very own maid?”

“Of course.” Brother Damon laughed for her benefit and felt a slight twinge of guilt flutter through him. He would miss Sorrah after he killed her. She had been both dedicated and loyal in fulfilling her duties to him. That kind of loyalty was hard enough to find, much less replace.

An’jel would not be as cooperative a consort, nor as blindly loyal. She had spent too many years away and had grown independent as a result. Such independence could threaten his plans and while everything he did was for the good of his people, Brother Damon couldn’t help but wonder if there might be something - or someone - he could keep for himself.

Taking her by the hand, he led Sorrah to his bed. With gentleness born of familiarity, Victor removed her clothes until she stood before him in her feminine perfection. She was indeed lovely and he took pleasure both in the sight of her and his own body’s reaction.

He devoted the next several hours to their lovemaking, not stopping until they were both well satisfied. Afterwards, he held her in his arms.

“Sorrah, my love," he whispered after they'd both been quiet for several minutes. "Are you awake?”

“No.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head where it rested on his chest. “I wish we could spend the night together, but I have things yet to be done tonight.”

She tipped her head back so she could look at him. “What could be so important that it can’t wait until the morning?”

He touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger in a playful gesture. “Your future as High Consort, unless of course you wish to continue being a maid?”

She smiled and gave a sigh of pretend indulgence. “Well, I suppose if you must go.”

It was his turn to smile. “Actually, it is you who must go. Back to your room.” He threw back the covers and got out of bed. His clothes lay in a pile on the floor and he bent to retrieve his pants. Sorrah took her time climbing out of bed.

After he finished putting on his shirt, Brother Damon walked over to his desk and picked up the small vial he had placed there earlier.

“I want you to take this vial," he said, carrying it to her. "At breakfast tomorrow, put four drops into Colonel Romanof’s morning drink – without him knowing, of course. Will you do that for me?”

She took the vial and looked at it suspiciously. When she looked up at him, he saw the doubt and concern reflected in her eyes.

“If you don’t wish to do it, I will understand,” he said, reaching to take back the vial.

She clutched it tighter and moved away from him. “No, it’s just that, well. I’ve never killed anyone.”

Victor offered his most tender smile and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Do you think so little of me, my love? These drops will do nothing more than make the Colonel tired.”

“Really?” Her voice sounded hopeful.

"It's only a little something to make him ill."

Seeming satisfied with his explanation, she tucked the vial into the pocket of her skirt and walked with him to the door. Before he let her leave, he made sure to kiss her farewell with a thoroughness that put the look of love back in her gaze and a smile on her face.

Closing the door after her, he leaned back against it, thinking how easy it had been to convince her. If everything else continued to go this well, Colonel Romanof would soon be dead.

* * * * *

Angel woke to a loud crashing noise.

“Angel!” Her mother shouted from the open doorway. “Something’s happened. You have to wake up.”

In one movement, Angel flung back the bed covers and jumped out of bed, forgetting her ankle in her haste. She gasped at the twinge of pain that shot through her. Yanur had healed the worst of her injury with his Reparator, but the muscle was still tender.

Her mother looked at her in alarm. "Angel, you're hurt."

"I'm fine.” She waved her mother’s concern aside. “What's the matter?” She looked around the room for what had caused her mother's alarm.

“It’s Nicoli.”

“Is he okay? Has something happened to him?” Angel looked at the bed, remembering how he'd laid beside her until she’d fallen asleep.

Her mother rushed to the closet and rummaged through it, pulling out a change of clothes and tossing them to her. “Yes and yes. Hurry and put these on. Oh here, let me help you.”

“Mother, please.” Angel tried to control her frustration as her mother helped her into her clothes. “What’s going on?”

“Your Grandfather has called for a Quorum.”

Angel paused in the process of buttoning her shirt. “A Quorum? Now?”

Her hand fell to her side, the buttons on her shirt forgotten as she considered this new information. A Quorum was only called for extremely important matters.

She glanced out the window. "It doesn't make sense. The first sun hasn't even risen. Are you sure?”

As her thoughts raced, her mother finished buttoning her shirt.

“Yes. One of the maids told me.” The shirt finished, her mother looked at her, a grave expression on her face. “Gil’rhen summoned Nicoli to appear.”

“Oh God.” That couldn’t be good. “I need to be there.”

“Of course.”

Angel didn’t bother to put on shoes. She slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders and together, they made their way through the halls to the High Counsel’s chambers.

The doors were closed when they arrived, but Angel no longer bowed to ceremony. She opened the doors and hobbled in.

Eight high officials from the House of Scyphor sat, four on either side of her grandfather. Victor stood before the group on the right, wearing his formal attire. He stood, head bent in quiet conversation with Pualson, a smug expression on his face.

Nicoli stood before the group as well, with his back to Angel so she couldn’t see his face. Something serious was taking place. Not even her barging in had drawn so much as a head turn from anyone except Rianol, who stood just off to the side. He wore a grave expression, like a man with too much responsibility to bear. Seeing him, Angel felt her alarm grow. If Rianol was this concerned, the situation had to be bad.

When he saw her, Rianol walked over to offer his support. Smiling her thanks, she placed her hand on his arm, releasing her mother who immediately moved to the other side of the room where Yanur stood, face grim.

“What’s going on?” She asked Rianol, leaning close so she could whisper in his ear.

“Victor is protesting his displacement as your husband and Counsel-elect.”

“Politics,” she muttered disgustedly. “Well, it’s too late. Nicoli is my husband and Victor had just better get used to it.” Even as she said the words, she feared the reality of her world was about to be jarred.

“An’jel.” Rianol’s tone was sympathetic and she knew she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Inside, she screamed at him to remain quiet, hoping that if he didn’t say anything more, they could all go back to bed and everything would return to normal. But that wouldn’t happen. She couldn’t stop the events about to unfold.

“Victor has issued The Challenge.”

An unnatural silence descended as her perception took on a surreal quality. Her voice, when it finally worked, came out almost a squeak. “The Challenge?”

“I’m sorry, An’jel.”

“No,” she shook her head. “There’s been a mistake.”

Angel turned to look at Nicoli’s back, ramrod straight, powerful in appearance. He was the embodiment of authority, military leadership and expertise, honor and integrity, bravery and courage. He was everything she was not and in that moment, she would have done anything to protect him from her planet’s archaic laws.

“No.” She shouted and all heads turned toward her. Pulling at Rianol so he would walk with her, she moved closer to the center podium. “Don’t allow this to happen, Grandfather. You, yourself, have already blessed our union.”

Her grandfather’s eyes were cold when they turned to her. “Silence, woman. Know your place. If you cannot control your tongue, I will have you thrown out of the room.”

Shocked, Angel moved closer to Nicoli. “Please,” she begged him. “Don’t agree to this.” She leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Tell him we’re not married. Tell him anything so you won’t have to fight. We can leave the planet.”

Nicoli just stared at her, disapproval written across his face. “I will not run.”

“Colonel Romanof.” The High Counsel’s voice boomed over the room, halting all other conversations. “In accordance with our ancient laws, Victor D’rajmin challenges your claims to be husband to An’jel ToRrenc and the Counsel–elect. He calls into question your strength and ability to defend these two privileges. What say you? Do you agree to meet Victor on The Challenge field? Or do you relinquish your claims?”

Angel held her breath, waiting for the miracle that never came.

“I will meet Victor D’rajmin on The Challenge field.” Nicoli’s voice rang clear and strong throughout the chamber.

“No.” Angel cried. “You don’t understand.”

Nicoli turned to her. “Everything will be okay.”

She wouldn’t allow him to console her. She gripped his arms with her hands. “You don’t understand.” She enunciated each word, hoping to make him understand. “The Challenge is a fight to the death.”

Chapter 27

“It is done.” The High Counsel’s voice rang out over the chamber. “Tomorrow at noon, Victor D’rajmin will meet Colonel Nicoli Romanof, here in my chambers, for The Challenge. They shall fight with the warring blade until one man lies dead. The Right of Claim for my granddaughter, An’jel ToRrenc, belongs to the survivor, as shall the title of Counsel-elect. At any time before noon tomorrow, either party may withdraw from the fight and in doing so, forfeit his Right of Claim.” The High Counsel looked first to Victor and then to Nicoli. “Do you both understand?”

“Yes.” The men spoke in unison while Angel looked on. Never had she felt so powerless.

The High Counsel continued to talk, but Angel tuned him out. She needed to think of a plan, a way out of this mess. There was no doubt in her mind now that Victor was the Harvester leader. Just as there was no doubt in her mind that he would find some way to cheat in tomorrow’s fight. She and Nicoli had hoped the leader would expose himself, but he'd outmaneuvered them.

When the Quorum adjourned, Angel’s mind still puzzled over possibilities. Silently, she joined Nicoli, her mother and Yanur as they left the chamber.

No one spoke as they made their way to Yanur’s room. When Nicoli helped Angel to a chair, she surfaced from her thoughts, glanced up and for the first time, noticed Yanur’s face. The old man seemed suddenly years older. His haunted eyes and grim expression reminded her of her mother’s face so many years ago when Angel’s father faced The Challenge. Then, as now, it was a matter of honor to appear but Angel didn’t see much value in honor if you weren’t around to enjoy it.

Yanur moved to the corner of the room where he took his small black bag from the closet. Carrying it to Angel, he knelt before her, opened the bag and removed the Reparator. When he activated the beam and ran it across her ankle, she felt the tingling that accompanied the regeneration of healthy cells and watched in amazement as the swelling subsided and the colorful bruising slowly turned to a healthy glow.

"Thank you," she said as Yanur switched off the machine.

He held it suspended in the air and Angel found she couldn’t look away. The Reparator had saved Nicoli’s life once before. Why couldn’t they use it again? She tore her gaze from the Reparator to look at Yanur. As if he read her thoughts, he shook his head.

“To the death,” he whispered.

“Once a person is dead, it will not bring them back to life.” She quoted his words, spoken outside the space station, each syllable a death knell.

Yanur nodded and turned to place the Reparator back in his bag. Angel saw the single tear escape his eye to roll down his cheek and knew its twin coursed down her own.

When she felt Nicoli's hand on her shoulder, she looked up.

"We should try to get a few more hours of sleep," he said, drawing her to her feet.

“We’ll talk later,” he said to Yanur.

The older man nodded and Nicoli led Angel out into the corridor. As they walked along the corridor to their bedroom, Angel’s thoughts turned once again to the fight. The weight of her misery made her head seem too heavy to hold up and beside her, Nicoli’s silence was deafening.

Once they reached their room, Angel confronted him.

“How can you act like nothing is happening?”

With that calm, unhurried air so typical of him, he faced her. “How would you have me act?”

“I don’t know.” She threw her arms up in the air as she paced toward him. “Get mad, slam something around. Yell. Do something.”

“Why?”

Exasperated, she stopped mid-stride and stared. “Tomorrow, you’re going to fight Victor.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s a fight to the death.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Damn it, Nicoli. One of you isn’t going to survive.”

“You’re worried about Victor?”

“Aargh!” She yelled. The man was impossible. “Of course I’m not worried about Victor. I’m worried about you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Angel stared at him in disbelief. “Do you really want to die so very much that the possibility of it doesn’t bother you?”

“I will not forfeit the fight and leave you to face Victor and your grandfather alone.”

“We could leave – you, me, Yanur and my mother.”

Nicoli shook his head. “Running away is not the answer.”

“Sometimes it is. You know as well as I do that Victor is going to cheat to win.”

“Probably.”

“So what will you do?”

He didn’t even pause to consider his answer. “I won’t cheat.”

Angel let her head fall forward in defeat. “Death before dishonor,” she mumbled. She raised her head and pinned him under her stare. “Well, you know what Nicoli? Good only triumphs over evil in the storybooks – not in real life.”

“I’ll be fine.” He moved to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She let him lead her to the bed to sit beside him.

“I pray to God that you are fine, but I'm afraid for you.” Angel stroked her hand along his cheek. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. I’ve already lost too many people I love. If I lost you too…”

She kissed him then. Kissed him as if it were their last kiss, conveying in action the feelings she was too afraid to put into words. It was the desperate kiss of a starving woman and Nicoli returned it with equal fervor.

Somehow they ended up stretched out in bed, naked, pressed against each other. She basked in the feel of his hard chest rubbing her breasts, their legs intertwined and hands clasping each other’s heads as lips devoured lips and tongues danced with each other.

Angel wanted this moment to last forever.

“Nicoli,” she pleaded, pulling her head away as she grasped for one last small thread of sanity to hold on to. “Stop.”

“Why? You want this as much as I do.”

“You’re right, but we have to plan what to do tomorrow."

“SShhh,” Nicoli placed a finger to her lips. “My Kiera – my heart - just for tonight,” he whispered, “let there be no tomorrow.”

He kissed her again and the thread snapped, leaving her wanting only to feel him inside her.

He didn’t make her wait, taking her in strokes so fast and powerful, all she could do was hold on until they both found their release.

The second time they made love, they took their time, and the reward was no less satisfying.

Afterwards, bathed in the afterglow of such loving, Angel settled herself against Nicoli’s side, her head resting on his chest. Never before had she felt so cherished and safe. As the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep, she smiled to herself. She had spent her entire life running from her grandfather and the arranged, loveless marriage he would force on her. She had wanted more from life. She had wanted to find true love - and she had.

“I love you, Nicoli,” she whispered into the darkness. “You’re the only one I’ll ever love.”

Her declaration met with silence. Perhaps he was already asleep and hadn’t heard her.

Or maybe, a small part of her brain chimed in just before she fell asleep, he’d heard but didn’t feel the same.

Nicoli didn’t consider himself a coward, but nothing scared him more than the four simple words Angel had uttered. “I love you, Nicoli.”

At first, his heart had leapt for joy, then a lifetime of conditioning kicked in and he shut the door on his emotion. He couldn’t afford to love anyone because of his job, because of the kind of person he was. The old arguments slipped easily into place. Angel could do so much better, he had no right to keep her. To hell with the Althusian laws. Hadn’t he broken enough of them already in his life? What was the real reason he wouldn’t divorce Angel?

The answer to that question kept him awake the rest of the night. When the first ray of light peeked past the window curtain, Nicoli eased himself from Angel’s arms and left the warmth of their bed.

As quickly and quietly as he could, he dressed. There was much to be done today and he shouldn't have stayed up so late, making love to Angel. But oh, it had been worth it. If he died today, it would still have been worth every second he’d spent with her.

Nicoli left the room and headed for the kitchen, intent on dealing with adversity on a full stomach. To his surprise, Sorrah was already up and preparing the morning breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said as he walked in. “You’re up early.”

“Big day.”

She smiled, a friendly smile that lacked the seductive innuendoes of their earlier encounters. “So I heard.” She waved at the various foods cooking on the stove. “Are you hungry? Sit down. I’ll fix you something.”

Nicoli looked around, on the verge of refusing her. Hunger warred with his desire to be alone with his thoughts.

“You’ll need your strength today,” she reminded.

“Okay.” A table sat in the middle of the kitchen and he started around it, about to take a spot on the far side when she stopped him.

“No, no. Sit here.” Sorrah laid a plate on the side closest to her. It seemed curious to him, but before he could ask, Sorrah was already explaining. “It’s just easier to be able to turn around and hand you the food, that’s all.”

Nicoli took the seat she indicated and she began to fill his plate with eggs and meats. She placed a bowl of fruit in front of him. “Would you like some wineberry juice or coffee?”

“Coffee, thanks.”

Nicoli ate a forkful of eggs and was glad he’d opted to eat. As he ate, he noticed Sorrah’s reflection in the side of the fruit bowl. He saw her take a mug from the cabinet and then glance over her shoulder at him. Something about the way she moved made him suspicious, so he pretended to be absorbed in his food, all the while keeping an eye on her movements through her reflection. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small vial. Then her hands disappeared in front of her. But Nicoli had no doubt that she had just slipped something into his drink.

She turned and set the drink on the table. “If it’s not warm enough, I can heat it.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” He pushed away from the table and stood up. “I’ll take it with me.”

He left the kitchen, mug in hand and made straight for Yanur’s room. He knocked on the door, then pushed it open, not waiting for Yanur’s invitation.

“Yanur, are you – oh, I’m sorry. Please excuse me.” Suppressing a smile, Nicoli quickly backed out the room and shut the door. Yanur and Katrina looked as if they had spent the night much in the same way he and Angel had, only apparently they had slept longer.

Scuffling noises came from within the room and then a few minutes later, a sheepish looking Yanur opened the door.

“You can come in now.”

Nicoli walked in and found Katrina standing on the far side of the bed, dressed but with an embarrassed flush staining her cheeks. She’d made an attempt to comb her hair, which was more than he could say for Yanur, who looked like he’d never seen a brush in his life.

“I’m sorry, Katrina. I didn’t mean to barge in.” Nicoli was at a loss for the right words. In all the years he’d been with Yanur, he couldn’t ever remember catching his friend in bed with a woman. That this particular woman happened to be his mother-in-law, made the situation that much more uncomfortable. “I, uh, I didn’t know.” He let his words trail off.

Katrina seemed to relax when she saw how flustered he was. “It’s all right, Colonel.”

“Nicoli, please. Or Alex. Yanur always calls me Alex.”

“Alex, then.” She smiled when she said it and walked over to stand by Yanur, who took her hand in his and held it.

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long, Alex,” Yanur said, then looked at the mug in Nicoli’s hand. “Is that for me?”

“No.” Nicoli walked over to the potted plant in the corner and emptied the contents into the dirt. “It’s been doctored, with what exactly, I don’t know. I didn’t care to find out.”

“You two probably have things you need to discuss,” Katrina said. “I should be going.”

Almost shyly, she kissed Yanur and started for the door. She stopped when she came even with Nicoli, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “I wish there was something I could say to convince you not to fight, but I know I can’t. It is a matter of honor for you, and I understand that. I want you to know how much I appreciate your taking care of my daughter, and bringing her back to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law and I’m so glad you’re a part of my family.”

She raised herself on tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek and when she pulled away, Nicoli saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Something strange and mysterious clutched at his heart like an iron band.

He heard her sigh deeply before giving him a smile. “Please be careful this afternoon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll see if I can sneak in and out of my room before that horrid woman finds me and insists on giving me one of her massages.” She turned her head to give Yanur a parting smile and then walked out of the room.

“Horrid woman?” Nicoli asked, perplexed.

“Sorrah.” Yanur said as if that were explanation enough.

“Interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Sorrah’s the one who doctored my drink, not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Didn’t you say you thought she and Victor were close? This is his doing, I’m sure.”

Nicoli smiled. “Won’t he be surprised when he discovers his little ploy didn’t work?”

“Should we do something about Sorrah?”

“No. If we do, Victor will know he didn’t succeed and he’ll try something else. We’re better off this way.”

Yanur looked down, suddenly too interested in his feet or the floor. “There is another option.”

With a sense of déjà vu, Nicoli shook his head. “I will not forfeit the fight.”

Yanur heaved a heavy sigh. “I know.”

“I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Yanur’s eyebrow shot up. “Of course, anything.”

Nicoli took his time, not exactly sure how to ask. “Should something go wrong this afternoon and I don’t make it, will you take Angel away from here? I need to know she’ll be safe if I’m not around to protect her.”

Yanur stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Will you do that for me?” Nicoli pressed.

“Of course, Alex. You know I will.” Yanur crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you? Because I am, you know.”

Nicoli gave a half-hearted smile. “Thanks. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been both a father and a friend. I appreciate it.”

“You’ve been a good son, Alex.”

The two men exchanged awkward hugs before Nicoli walked out, leaving Yanur to stare at the door, a puzzled expression on his face. Over the years, he’d watched Alex face death many times, but never before had Alex seemed so worried over the possibility of his own death.

Preoccupied by these thoughts, Yanur retrieved his black bag and left his room.

Chapter 28

“Care for some company?”

Angel skipped another small stone across the lake before looking up. “Do you remember when we used to come here as kids? I used to get so frustrated because I could never make my stones skip as far as yours.”

Rianol smiled. “I see you’ve been practicing.”

Angel managed a small smile. “Anytime I found myself near a lake, I always skipped a few stones across it. Over the years, it just sort of developed into a habit. Now it helps me think.”

“Is that why you came here? To think?”

“Partly.” She let her fingers brush against the grass along the bank where she sat. “And to get away for a while.”

“Would you like for me to leave?” He offered.

“No, actually I think I’d like the company.” She patted the ground beside her in invitation for him to sit.

Rianol gave the ground a speculative look. “Maybe we could take a walk instead?”

Angel smiled. “What? Now you don't like dirt? I remember getting in trouble after coming home covered in mud because you said it would be more fun if we slid down the muddy side of the bank into the water.” She studied him to see if her mild teasing had the desired effect. He still looked determined to walk. “You’re sure you don’t want to sit and toss stones?”

“I’m sure.” He stretched out his hand to help her up.

“Thanks.” She brushed off her clothes and then together, they began to stroll along the path circling the lake.

“I would have thought you’d be with your husband.”

Angel felt the same stab of disappointment she had felt when she awakened earlier to find Nicoli gone. “He’s off preparing for the fight. I...I didn’t want to get in his way.” She still wondered if he’d heard her confession last night, if that had anything to do with why he sneaked out. “But I also couldn’t sit around in the room and watch the clock until noon, so I came here.”

She turned to study him. Buried beneath the man’s face, she saw traces of the boy he once was. Today, his face appeared more gaunt than usual.

“How are you doing?”

He looked surprised that she would ask. “Me?”

“Yeah. This can’t be easy. After all, Victor’s your friend.”

“Well, um, yes. I’ve known Victor a long time.” He looked at her with uncertainty. “I have a great deal of respect for Colonel Romanof as well. This whole thing,” he waved his hand in the air. “It’s unfortunate.”

“Today, one of us is going to lose someone very close. It’s more than unfortunate. It’s asinine.” She let her breath out in a sigh of resignation. “And I don’t know how to stop it.”

“The Colonel doesn’t strike me as the kind to forfeit a fight.”

“No, you’re right. He’s not. What about Victor? Do you think if I went to him, he’d call it off?” She knew he wouldn’t, not if he were the Harvester leader as she suspected, but she wanted to hear Rianol’s thoughts.

Rianol shook his head. “No. Even if Victor decided to forfeit, there’d always be someone else. The High Counsel, for as long as he continues to live, will see to it that Colonel Romanof meets with a continual string of challengers. No matter how good he is, he can’t beat them all. Sooner or later, one of them will win and you’ll find yourself with a new husband – and no say in the matter.”

Angel shuddered and gave a shaky laugh. “Are you trying to cheer me up, because if you are, I want to tell you – you suck at it.”

Rianol stared at her in shock, then burst out laughing. “You are full of surprises. Life with you would never be dull, that’s for sure.” He took her hand in his and pulled her to a stop so he could face her. “The Colonel is a lucky man.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Listen, the fight will start soon. I spoke to the High Counsel and he agreed to bend the rules and allow you and Mr. Snellen to be present during the fight. But An’jel, you cannot interfere. If you do, you’ll be thrown out. That was the best I could do.”

The rules stated that only the High Counsel, the members of the Quorum and the fighters could be present. She had been dreading the long wait to hear the results of the fight. She wasn’t sure now whether she could handle watching it, but she’d rather be there with Nicoli in some capacity, than sitting around waiting. She threw her arms around Rianol and hugged him. “Thank you.”

Rianol hesitated before awkwardly hugging her back. She wondered why he'd never married. Growing up, she'd thought if she had to marry someone, she'd wanted it to be Rianol because he never treated her as anything less than an equal.

"Thank you for distracting me," she told him sincerely.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you, if you need anything,” he whispered in her ear.

* * * * *

At high noon, the chimes from the large clock sounded, resonating off the walls of the High Counsel’s chamber and marking the commencement of The Challenge. Emptied of all furniture, the large rug on the floor had been removed to reveal blood red tiles set among the darker ones, forming a large circle. Within this circle, Victor and Nicoli stood, facing one another. The High Counsel and members of the Quorum lined the back wall while Yanur, Angel and Katrina stood together off to the side. Across the room, Rianol stood alone.

Victor and Nicoli wore form-hugging black pants. Neither shirts nor shoes were allowed, to avoid the possibility of concealed weapons. If the situation weren’t so grave, Angel might have enjoyed the high level of testosterone on display. The scene was reminiscent of the slave auction back on the Harvesters’ planet.

She and Nicoli had not talked prior to the fight. He had seemed preoccupied, with good reason, and she’d been loath to break his concentration with something as trivial as her feelings. When they had arrived at the chamber, he’d nodded to Yanur and given her a kiss. With a whispered “this won’t take long” and a wink, he’d walked confidently into the ring to meet Victor.

Angel’s over-strung nerves virtually buzzed with tension when the High Counsel stepped into the ring. “This fight is for the title of Counsel-elect and for the Right of Claim for my granddaughter, An’jel ToRrenc. Once the fight begins, it will not end until one of the contestants lies dead. Does either party wish to forfeit?”

Both Victor and Nicoli shook their heads.

“Very well. Let the fight begin.”

The High Counsel stepped quickly from the ring, as if expecting both men to lunge, but neither did. Like dancers, they moved in tandem, circling but always opposite one another; each sizing up the other. When Victor’s face moved into view, Angel saw his predatory smile and her heart grew cold with fear.

Then Victor lunged, his blade arcing down. Nicoli blocked the blow and parried with one of his own - but Victor recovered quickly and brought his weapon up to block.

It continued in this manner - lunge and parry, lunge and parry – each blow coming harder and faster than the one before.

Victor was breathing hard and his smug smile slipped into a frown.

Nicoli was obviously the better blade-man. For the first time since The Challenge was issued, Angel felt a spark of hope. Maybe there could be a happy ending for her and Nicoli after all.

Nicoli drew first blood when the tip of his blade connected with Victor’s upper arm, slicing into it. Victor stared at the wound in horror, as if for the first time realizing he might be the one killed today. Now fighting for his life, his thrusts grew wild and desperate. Heedless of wasting energy, he swung his blade faster and faster, trying to beat Nicoli down. Nicoli raised his blade to block the blows, but the impact drove them out of the circle, toward the side where Angel and Yanur stood watching.

Both men had sustained numerous cuts and blood flowed freely down their bodies, painting a grim picture of impending death. Victor labored for every breath he took and even Nicoli sounded winded. As the men tired, the blows came less quickly. Finally, the wait between each thrust grew so long that when Victor next raised his blade, Nicoli stepped closer and slammed his fist into the other man’s face. Victor’s head snapped back and he crumpled to the floor.

Angel held her breath as she waited for Nicoli to deliver the killing blow, but it didn’t come.

“I have won,” he announced. “There is no need to kill this man to prove myself.”

“You must kill him or the fight is not finished,” the High Counsel shouted back.

“I refuse.”

Nicoli gave Victor a final look, then lowered his blade, turned and walked toward Angel. Too elated to remain standing, she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms, unconcerned about the blood.

“I told you to have a little faith in me,” he whispered before kissing her. Then he let her go so he could shake hands with Yanur.

Standing to the side of Nicoli, Angel caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see Victor charging forward, his warring blade leveled at her.

Though her mind screamed to move, her body refused.

Her body automatically tensed. She was going to die.

The attack never came.

Victor stood before her, frozen in place, a look of shocked disbelief on his face. He was looking down at his stomach and Angel followed his gaze.

From his stomach protruded a blade, Nicoli's blade. For the second time, he crumpled to the ground. This time, he didn't get back up.

Angel turned to Nicoli but her relief turned sour in her stomach when she saw that Victor’s blade had found its mark.

Grunting in pain, Nicoli pulled the blade from his stomach and dropped it to the ground as his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Angel wrapped her arms around him, trying to ease his fall to the floor.

Someone screamed, over and over. Belatedly, she realized it was her and managed to turn her screams into whimpers as she leaned over Nicoli.

Her hands hovered around his wound, unsure what to do. It was Yanur who pulled off his shirt and used it to staunch the flow of blood.

When he looked at her, it was to shake his head slightly.

“No. You’re wrong,” she sobbed, laying her hand against Nicoli's face. “Hang on, love. You’ll be okay.”

Nicoli’s eyelids fluttered open. He seemed to have trouble focusing on her, but managed a weak smile. “My Angel,” he whispered.

Her smile felt wobbly through her tears.

“Victor?” He asked.

“Dead.”

“Good. Then you are safe.” He coughed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Angel quickly wiped it away with the corner of her shirt.

“Shush, my love, don’t talk. Save your energy. We’ll talk later.”

“Both know this is the end.” She heard the blood gurgling in his lungs, making speech difficult. “Funny. Spent my life, looking for death.” He coughed, struggling to clear his lungs. When he spoke again, his voice sounded much weaker. “Now, when I finally have a reason to live, death finds me.” He raised an unsteady hand to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheek. “Wanted to spend my whole life with you. Not enough time. Want you to know...I love you, Angel. Never doubt that I love you... more than life itself.”

Releasing one last shuddering breath, his arm dropped to his side and he fell quiet. Angel sat in shock, unable to believe he was gone. How could he be dead? This was the love she had searched for her entire life. What cruel fate would rob her of him so soon?

Overcome by grief, her head fell forward and the tears fell unceasingly. She didn’t even notice when her mother led her from the room.

Chapter 29

Three days following Nicoli’s death, Angel emerged from the black hole that had become her life. Having fallen into such sorrow and despair, she wondered that the emotions didn’t kill her. At her lowest moment, she prayed they would, wanting to be with Nicoli in any way she could.

During that time, her mother slipped in and out of the room, bringing food that went untouched, and sleeping pills that had to be rationed, lest she succumb to temptation and swallow too many. She cried until her swollen eyes were incapable of producing moisture, and then cried some more. Finally she fell into a deep sleep and when she awoke, she knew it was time to move on.

Her world had ended, but her life had not. Though she’d toyed with the notion of killing herself, it wasn’t in her nature. She was a fighter and would survive whether she liked it or not.

She brushed her hair and held a rag soaked in cold water against her face in an attempt to reduce the swelling around her eyes. Her efforts proved unsuccessful.

Finally, she left her room and headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but knew on some basic level she must eat. It was late morning and the kitchen was full of workers. Some were clearing away the last remains of breakfast while others started preparations for the noon meal. When she entered, they ceased their activities to stare, making her feel self-conscious.

She stood, facing the looks of curiosity, sympathy and pity, unsure how to handle them. When Sorrah walked into the kitchen from the other doorway, there was no sympathy or pity in the look she gave Angel. Raw hatred and anger shone from the servant's red, swollen eyes. Any other time, Angel might have confronted the woman, but not now. She knew all too well what it felt like to lose someone you loved, as she was sure now that Sorrah had loved Victor.

Angel abandoned all thoughts of eating and left the kitchen to go to her mother’s room. She found it empty. Yanur’s room was vacant as well and somewhere in the fog of the last couple of days, she remembered her mother saying that Yanur had taken Nicoli’s body and left the planet. A part of her didn’t blame him for leaving, though she wished he’d at least have said “good-bye.” She would miss him, but maybe it was better this way.

After spending so many days in her room, the thought of returning to it was inconceivable, so she walked outside with intentions of becoming hopelessly lost in the maze. It was there that Rianol found her a short time later.

“Am I intruding?”

“No.”

She walked over to one of the benches placed along the path of the maze. Sitting, she gestured for him to join her.

Sitting in companionable silence, she tilted her head back, letting the warmth of the two suns wash over her face. The sky shone a crystal blue and somewhere nearby, birds chirped their staccato songs. Time seemed to hold still and Angel felt a momentary peacefulness settle over her. It was the kind of day that used to leave her thinking it was a good day to be alive.

The irony stung.

“Life’s funny,” she observed. “Sometimes it seems that no matter how hard or fast I run, it’s never hard or fast enough, you know? I spent most of my life trying to get away from here - and now, here I am, right back where I started. And when I finally find the one thing I was looking for…”

Her throat grew too tight to speak and tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked rapidly to clear them. She would not cry; though when Rianol put his arm around her shoulder to offer comfort, she didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

“I'm sorry, too. I know Victor was your friend.”

They fell silent, listening to the leaves on the bushes rustle in the gentle, warm breeze. Noises from the palace drifted to them, then faded. Angel thought if she held very still and quiet, the rest of the world and all of its horrible realities might vanish from existence, at least for a little while.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there before Rianol broke the silence.

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You could leave.”

She raised her head to look at him. “You mean the planet?”

He gave her a weak smile. “I’ll help you. I’ll find a ship for you, but you’ll need to leave soon, An’jel. Your grandfather isn’t going to sit around and mourn Victor’s loss. If I know him, he’s already lining up the next counsel-elect. In another couple of days, you’ll be married again.”

“Oh, God.” He was right. The knowledge was a galactic wake-up call. She couldn't stay here.

Nicoli was dead. Nothing would change that, so she should leave, go back to Earth – to Dugan and Skeeter's. She could become a courier again. She’d take her mother with her. Maybe they'd try to find Yanur. Her mother would like that, wouldn't she? They could all start a new life together.

No. She'd run away once. She wasn't running away again.

If she had learned nothing else from Nicoli, she had at least learned that she couldn't run from her problems.

Aware that Rianol was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving. Somehow I have to find a way to change thing, make them better.”

Rianol looked at her, uncertainty in his eyes. “Then I have a suggestion, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

Angel raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

“Marry me.” He held up his hand to stall her protest. “I know you don’t love me. I don’t love you either, but we’re fond of one another and I think we’d suit each other well. Well enough to rule a planet together. The way it’s supposed to be done. I’m offering you a marriage of convenience, An’jel - and protection from your grandfather. As the High Consort, you will rule by my side, as my equal.”

To her surprise, Angel found herself considering his offer. “What about my grandfather? He won't go for it."

“No. That’s why we marry without his permission.”

“How?”

“We sleep together.”

“What?” Angel stared at him in surprise. There was no way she was going to sleep with him. “No, I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can. Not this soon. Maybe not ever.”

Rianol shook his head. "I'm not explaining myself well, I'm sorry. I'm not suggesting we have sex. I'm only suggesting we tell people we did.” He hurried on before she could protest. "You see according to the ancient laws, a man and woman who have consummated their relationship and publicly proclaim themselves to be man and wife, are by law considered to be married. It’s called the Rite of Consummation.”

Angel frowned. “It seems too easy.”

“As long as no one stakes a prior claim, your grandfather will be forced to recognize us as husband and wife.”

“But what’s to stop my grandfather from initiating another Challenge fight?”

Rianol shook his head. “The Quorum won’t go for it. The only reason they agreed before was because your grandfather convinced them we couldn’t have an off-worlder as High Counsel. He can’t use that argument with me. Besides, the members of the Quorum like me. It won’t be a problem.”

Angel took a deep breath. Things were moving too quickly for her. “When do you propose we do this?”

He looked at her as if he’d already thrown a lot at her and didn’t want to press his luck. “Tonight.”

“No!” Nicoli had just died. She couldn't do it tonight.

“Okay, tomorrow then. The sooner we do it, An'jel, the safer you’ll be.” He took her hand in his. "Even now, your grandfather is arranging your marriage."

Angel knew he was right. "Okay, we can do it tonight.”

He stood, pulling her to her feet. “If you change your mind, I'll understand, but if you still want to go through with this plan, then come to my room tonight after the suns have set.” She nodded. "Everything will work out fine. You’ll see.” He leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.

Angel mentally shied away from the contact. It didn’t feel right. Maybe it never would.

She continued to sit in the maze long after he left. She thought about everything that had happened and about what she was going to do. There were so many reasons not to marry Rianol, not the least of which was she didn't love him. The chance to sabotage her grandfather's plan and perhaps bring peace and happiness to the people of Scyphor, however, was too important.

Finally, when her stomach started growling, she wandered back to the kitchen. Maybe now that she had a plan of action, her stomach would settle down and she could eat.

It was after the midday meal and the kitchen was empty. Preparations for the evening meal wouldn’t begin for another hour or so. Angel walked in, glad to have the place to herself. She gathered the makings for an old-fashioned sandwich and was cutting the bread when her grandfather walked in.

“What are you doing here?” She muttered.

“I was looking for you.” He walked to the far side of the table and sat down facing her. “I thought you would have left by now. Run away.”

“Well I didn’t.” She set the bread aside for later and picked up the meat, placing it on the cutting board where she began cutting it. “Would you mind telling me why you killed my husband?”

“I didn’t. The fight was fair.”

“Bullshit.”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

She shook her head, feeling defeated. “Why were you so against Nicoli? He would have made a great leader. He wasn’t afraid to stand up and do what was right. Did you feel threatened?”

“Victor issued The Challenge, not I.”

“Don’t.” Angel stabbed the knife into the cutting board. “Don’t even pretend you had no control over what happened. You and I both know the truth. You didn’t want Nicoli as your successor because he was better than you. A better leader. A better man. A better everything.”

“You shouldn’t speak to me with such disrespect,” the High Counsel warned. “I am still the ruler of this House. And your grandfather.”

“You have to earn respect.” She slapped pieces of meat onto her bread. When her sandwich was done, she looked up to find her grandfather studying her.

“I’m dying,” he said, sounding truly old and sick.

She sighed. “I hope you don't expect me to feel sorry for you.” But she said it without rancor in her tone.

“It’s over. You won.”

“Did I?” She gave a half-laugh. “Somehow I thought winning would feel better.” She picked up her sandwich and walked to the door, stopping when she heard his sigh.

“Victor would have made you the perfect husband and leader. I don’t know that I can find someone that perfect again.”

“Victor wasn’t as perfect as you thought.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“He was a Harvester. And he found you, not the other way around. Nicoli wasn’t just protecting me in that fight. He was protecting you and the rest of the planet from the Harvesters. Think about it.” She turned and walked out.

* * * * *

The rest of the day passed slowly, but eventually the two suns set and Angel found herself knocking on Rianol’s door.

“Come in.” Even from the other side of the door, he sounded nervous. “My quarters are not as big as yours,” he apologized after she walked in. “But I think we’ll be comfortable here tonight.”

She stopped in front of the bed. Large enough for at least three people, it had head and footboards made of Coronadian knotty wood.

“We’ll have to share the bed," Rianol said, coming to stand beside her. "In case someone barges in on us or checks the room later. It needs to at least look as if we slept together.”

Angel nodded and took a leisurely stroll about. There wasn’t much to the room. A desk, a couple of chairs and a wet bar in the main room, with a bathroom off to the side. She’d have to talk to Rianol later about separate quarters. For now, she just wanted to get through the night.

“How about a drink?”

“Sure,” Angel answered. “Martian ale?”

Rianol smiled. “One Martian ale coming up.” He washed his hands at the wet bar sink, then poured the neon blue liquid into a glass. She took it from him with a nervous smile. She wasn’t really thirsty, but hoped it would soothe her nerves. She took a couple of sips as she finished circling the room.

It was a short trip, so when she completed her tour, she went over to the desk and sat in one of the chairs beside it. “What do we do now?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I guess we could talk.” He picked up the drink he’d poured himself and took a swallow. When he lowered the glass, his hand shook.

“Rianol, are you okay? Don’t tell me I make you nervous,” she joked, looking at him instead of where she was trying to set down her glass. She missed the table and the glass slipped off the edge, onto the floor. The blue liquid spilled everywhere.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She scooted off her chair to stoop by the mess. “Rianol, do you have a towel or something . . . Rianol?”

He stood trembling, mesmerized by the liquid seeping into the carpet. He didn’t seem to hear her when she spoke.

“Rianol?”

“You spilled.” He sounded aghast.

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry, but I’ll clean it up if you’ll toss me a towel.”

“No. I’ll do it,” he snapped. Picking up a rag, he whipped by her and started to dab the liquid from the carpet. “You’ll have to be more careful.” He sounded as if he were speaking through clinched teeth.

“Sorry, Rianol. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

As if realizing how absurd he was acting, Rianol looked up at her. “I’m sorry. I like things clean and neat.”

“I understand,” Angel said, trying to sound as if she really did.

He finished cleaning the floor, then walked back to the wet bar. He washed his hands after throwing the soiled cloth into the trash bin.

“I’ll fix you another drink.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m not really thirsty.”

“I think you should have one anyway. To calm you for the rest of the evening.”

She wanted to protest, but didn’t want to argue with him when he already seemed so upset. “Okay, fine.” She picked up the fallen glass from the floor where he had overlooked it and started to hand it to him.

He had already poured her drink into a new glass and was standing with his back to her. She saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a small vial. She couldn’t see what he was doing with the vial, but knew he was putting some of its contents into her drink. Did she confront him with it? Or pretend she didn’t see and not drink it?

She stood up as he put the vial back into his pocket and turned around. “Rianol, I think maybe we’re rushing things.”

His eyes narrowed and she could almost see the thoughts racing around in his head.

She waved a hand toward the door, trying to act casual. “I’m going back to my room. I need a little more time.” She started for the door.

Rianol set down the glass and started to walk toward her. “I don’t think we should wait.”

“I do. It’s too soon for me.”

Then he was there beside her and before she knew it, he punched her in the jaw and everything grew dark.

Chapter 30

Consciousness, when it came, slammed into her with a force equal to the blow that had knocked her out. She noticed the pain in her jaw, but ignored it. It was her inability to move her arms or legs that had all her attention. She tried to assess her situation without opening her eyes. She was lying on something soft, which she assumed was the bed. Her arms were stretched above her head and metal cuffs around her wrists held her secure. Her legs were shackled as well.

“I know you’re awake, An’jel. I didn’t hit you that hard. Can’t hit anything that hard.” Rianol’s tone sounded bitter.

Angel opened her eyes to see him standing beside the bed, legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

She had to clear her throat a couple of times before her voice worked. “Why?”

“Haven’t you guessed by now?”

“Are you working for my grandfather?”

He threw his head back and laughed. There was a manic edge to his laughter that she hadn’t noticed before and when he looked at her again, it wasn’t with the eyes of the Rianol she’d come to know. This man was crazy. Or...

“You’re a Harvester.”

“We prefer the term Magdatians, but yes.”

“I, we, thought Victor was the leader.”

At the mention of Victor’s name, Rianol’s eyes grew solemn. “No. Victor was not our leader. I am.”

“Did you kill Herrod?”

“No, Victor did. He saw you two fighting and took advantage of the situation. I believe he hoped to eliminate Colonel Romanof.” Rianol shook his head. “Victor never had the patience to wait and plan things through. Oh well. Victor’s last act of sacrifice proved his worth. With Colonel Romanof out of the way, I can continue as planned.”

“You won’t succeed. I’ll stop you.” Angel stretched her head back, trying to see how her hands were secured. Rianol had locked her into a pair of handcuffs with a special chain that allowed them to be secured to the headboard. She pulled, testing their strength while Rianol stood by and watched without apparent concern that she would free herself.

“Struggle all you want. The more you do, the more the bed will look slept in.” Rianol came forward and ran a finger down her cheek. Then as if the touch of her skin was offensive, he rubbed his fingers together. “After all, tomorrow we’ll want to look convincing.”

“I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man--”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty to offer threats.” Rianol shouted over her. “Unless of course you don't care what happens to your mother.”

“What have you done to my mother?”

“Oh, nothing yet. But tomorrow morning, when we make our little announcement, Sorrah will have a tiny hypo in her possession, containing a deadly poison and she'll be sure to stand close to your mother. One wrong word from you and your mother will die. Very painfully, I might add. So, before you do anything rash, you might wish to reconsider. You just buried a husband. Are you so willing to bury your mother as well?”

* * * * *

By morning, Angel was exhausted. Between her discomfort from being chained to the bed and her fear of what Rianol might do should she fall asleep, Angel had forced herself to stay awake all night. When Rianol finally released her, Angel felt too stiff and too tired to do more than glare at him.

“Get undressed,” he ordered.

Angel rubbed her wrists, trying to work circulation back into her arms. “Why?” As she watched, he stripped off his shirt.

“We’re about to have company.” He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you. You’re not my type.”

“Why’s that? Too independent? Too Coronadian?”

“No. Too female.”

Angel gaped at him. “Victor was your lover.”

“Very astute of you. Now take off your clothes or dear old mom gets a hypo for breakfast.”

Somehow, knowing he had no interest in her sexually made it easier. As Angel did as he ordered, a thought occurred to her. “You poisoned my mother? How?”

Rianol spared her a quick glance. “Tainted massage oils. Now climb into bed and get under the covers.”

Her tired brain fought against her fatigue, searching for possible ways out of this predicament. Finding none, she followed his instructions, pulling the covers up to her chin in an effort to cover her nudity. As she did, she cast a glance at Rianol. She hadn’t realized how thin and frail he was beneath his clothes. As he walked to the bed, she noticed the slight twist of his right foot.

Perhaps feeling her eyes on him, Rianol glowered at her. “Don’t worry, my dear. I find this decrepit body as disgusting as you do. And thanks to your and Romanof’s efforts, it will be a while longer before I have the new transfer unit up and operational.”

Rianol crawled in beside her, but didn’t look any happier about being there than she did. He’d barely tucked his legs under the cover when a knock came at the door.

“Come in.” Rianol shouted, quickly draping an arm around Angel’s shoulders, pulling her close.

“What is so urgent that I had to come here...” Her grandfather’s voice fell silent as he stepped into the room and saw them. For a moment, his face mirrored his shock. Then he pulled himself together. “What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded of Rianol. “What are you doing with my granddaughter?”

“We’re invoking the Rite of Consummation,” Rianol replied smoothly, squeezing Angel’s arm to no doubt remind her to keep quiet. As if she would risk her mother’s life, she thought disgustedly. “As you can see,” Rianol continued. “We spent the night together, as man and wife, and need only make a public declaration to legalize our marriage.”

“Is this true?” Her grandfather glared at her.

Angel could only nod.

"You dare do this to me."

"You left us no choice," Rianol replied.

Her grandfather seemed to age before her eyes, all the fight going out of him and he didn’t look at either of them before leaving the room.

Rianol jumped out of bed and crossed the room, apparently unconcerned about his lack of dress. He shut the door and turned to give her a smile. “That went well, don’t you think?”

* * * * *

Yanur stepped to the outer fringes of the crowd gathered in the village’s public square. The tracer tag embedded in the necklace he’d given Katrina indicated she was here. He’d told her he’d come for her, as soon as he took care of Nicoli’s body. Had she believed him?

He surveyed the faces in the crowd, feeling the anticipation and excitement in those gathered there. And his concern grew.

Then he spotted her. She would never hear him over the noise, so he pushed his way through the crowd, until he stood behind her.

“Katrina.” Her name was a prayer on his lips.

At the sound of his voice, she turned to him and her eyes lit up with joy. Then, so quickly that he wondered if he’d mistaken her initial reaction, her eyes clouded and her expression grew solemn.

“Hello, Mr. Snellen.”

Mr. Snellen? What was this? “Katrina, I’d like to talk to you.” He looked pointedly at her companion, recognizing Sorrah, the maid Katrina hated. “Alone.”

Katrina’s glance darted to the maid before turning to him. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

For a moment, he doubted himself. Had he been wrong thinking there was more to what they shared than mere friendship? Then he saw it, a flicker of emotion in Katrina’s eyes. Fear.

“Very well,” he said to her. “I’ll leave.”

He saw the desperation in her eyes when he turned to leave, but he didn’t go far. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the neuro-tazer. He pressed it to the maid’s neck and she crumpled into his waiting arms, unconscious. The crowd, too distracted by what was about to transpire at the podium, didn’t seem to notice as he dragged her off to the side and set her against a tree.

When he turned around, Katrina was there. For a moment, she stood and stared at the unconscious maid. Then a smile broke across her face and she threw herself into his arms.

“I knew you’d come back. Your timing, as usual, is very good.” The look of love she showered on him left him breathless.

“You really need someone to watch over you,” he scolded.

“Are you applying for the job?”

Yanur looked deep into her eyes. “Yes, I am.” He lowered his head, touching his lips to hers, putting his heart and the promise of a lifetime into a single kiss.

* * * * *

Angel approached the square in a dreamlike state. Fatigue and frustration dominated her emotions and thoughts. She was barely aware of the villagers gathered in the square or how all eyes turned expectantly to watch as she and Rianol walked onto the stage.

With Rianol on one side, clutching her arm, and her grandfather on the other, Angel scanned the crowd for her mother. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Good villagers of Scyphor,” Rianol began. “Hear me now. In accordance with the Rite of Consummation, I swear before all of you that An’jel ToRrenc and I, Rianol DeWintre, did consummate our marriage and stand before you now as husband and wife. Let anyone with a prior claim speak now or forever remain silent.”

Angel prayed for a miracle, knowing none would come. Angel longed to remove the confident smile that crossed Rianol’s face as he looked out over the people. Then a voice shouted from the crowd.

“I lay prior claim.”

A buzzing started in Angel’s head, playing games with her mind. The voice she heard was a figment of her imagination, wishful thinking but nothing more. A low murmuring of voices began in the crowd and grew louder. Then they parted and a figure stepped forward.

“Nicoli.”

The name rushed from her lips on a whisper as she gripped the podium with both hands to steady herself. How could he be alive? It was a miracle. She wanted to race into the crowd, throw herself into his arms, but her mother’s life lay in the balance.

“Colonel Romanof,” Rianol said with a sneer. “You’re a hard man to kill.”

“I doubt you will be,” Nicoli responded. “Step away from my wife.”

Rianol smiled. “I’m afraid you were declared legally dead at The Challenge fight. Your claim is forfeited. But don’t worry.” Rianol brushed the back of his hand down Angel’s cheek in a mock show of affection. “An’jel waited at least a day after your death before coming to my bed.”

Nicoli stared at her, confusion and doubt evident in his gaze. “Angel?”

She wanted to cry out, deny Rianol’s claims, profess her love for Nicoli, but she remained silent, dying a little inside. When Nicoli turned to go, she looked away, unable to watch, and spotted someone waving on the far side of the gathering.

She looked closer and gasped. Her mother stood, smiling, beside Yanur. Sorrah was nowhere to be seen “Nicoli, wait...” The laser Rianol pulled from beneath his jacket and now held to her side caused the rest of her cry to die into silence.

A gasp went up from the gathering, drawing Nicoli’s attention. He turned back.

“You couldn’t stay quiet, could you?” Rianol growled at Angel, one hand grabbing her hair close to the scalp to hold her in place while the other hand brought the laser to her head. He jerked her hair roughly as he shouted. “You tell them we spent the night together.”

Angel gritted her teeth against the pain, her eyes tearing involuntarily. “Never,” she ground out between clinched teeth. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man in the universe.”

A hush fell across the crowd while Rianol stared about, wild-eyed, as if unsure what to do.

“It’s over,” Nicoli shouted, training his own laser on Rianol. “Let her go.”

Rianol pushed Angel in front of him as a shield. “You’ll have to kill me first,” he shouted, firing the laser at Nicoli. People screamed and fell, en masse, to the ground, as the shot missed its target. Rianol backed off the podium, pulling Angel with him. He fired three more bursts erratically into the crowd, then turned and ran toward the palace gardens, taking Angel as his hostage.

“There’s a shortcut that way,” Katrina said breathlessly, rushing up to Nicoli and pointing to the far side. “Cut through the trees.”

Nicoli didn’t wait. He ran as if his life depended on it, because it did. Angel made him want to live again. Without her, his life meant nothing.

He barely noticed the sting of the tree branches as they scraped his arm when he pushed his way through the woods. All he could think about was getting there in time.

He reached the spot where the maze opened up as Rianol emerged with Angel.

“You can’t stop me,” Rianol shouted, pulling Angel in front of him again as he faced Nicoli. “I won’t let you destroy my dream.”

There was a wild look to Rianol’s eyes and Nicoli feared pushing him over the edge. “You picked the wrong way to go about it, Rianol.” Nicoli tried to sound calm over the pounding of his heart. “It’s over.”

“No. I’ll kill you both if I have to.” Rianol’s laser wavered dangerously back and forth. “Drop it,” he said, nodding toward Nicoli’s weapon.

Nicoli knew he was dealing with a madman. With no shot open to him, Nicoli lowered his laser to the ground.

Then suddenly, Angel went limp. Unable to hold her, Rianol’s arm dipped under the weight and Angel fell to the ground. In that instant, Nicoli lunged, knocking Rianol off his feet. He grabbed the hand holding the laser and the two men wrestled for it.

Rianol pulled the trigger. A single shot fired and Angel screamed in pain. Out of his peripheral vision, Nicoli saw her fall to the ground.

In a blind rage, Nicoli twisted Rianol’s arm and the laser fired another shot, this time striking Rianol in the head.

For a second, his body remained standing, then it toppled to the ground.

Nicoli was already running to Angel’s side. When he reached her, he checked her wound. It looked serious and real fear swept through him.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Nicoli?”

“I’m here, Kiera.” He leaned close, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"But I saw you die."

“Don’t talk,” Nicoli urged, looking around for Yanur, willing his friend to magically appear.

“Tell me how,” she whispered.

“After the fight, Yanur let everyone believe I was dead. He transferred my life essence back into the biopod, then took my body to the ship where he used the Reparator to heal me. We moved the ship so no one would interrupt us.”

“You could have told me.”

Nicoli heard the pain in her voice and his heart ached. “I’m sorry, Kiera. There wasn’t time.”

“I'm glad you're not dead.” She raised a hand to caress his cheek, then let it fall limply back to the ground. Her eyes drifted shut and she grew still.

“Angel!” Fear made his voice sharp. He couldn’t lose her. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged. “I don’t think I can live without you. I love you, Angel.”

She smiled, slowly opening her eyes. “I’m not dying. I’m just tired. It was a long night.”

Nicoli could hardly believe it. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah. It’s only a flesh wound. I’ve had worse.” She raised her hand to cup the back of his head and pulled him down to her. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Epilogue

Skeeter's Bar, Earth

One year later

“I thought I told you not to come in here during peak business hours,” Dugan shouted from his office doorway. “The customers don’t feel comfortable with Security Forces hanging around. Scares ‘em away.”

“Give it a break, Dugan.” Angel responded, making straight for the bar and collapsing onto a stool. “Nicoli hasn’t been with the Security Forces for almost a year and you know it.”

Dugan cast a dubious look at Nicoli, who merely smiled as he leaned against the bar next to Angel’s stool. “You’re still scaring away the customers."

Without raising her now blonde head from where it throbbed in her hands, Angel mumbled. “It’s mid-morning. There are no customers. And if you aren’t nice, we’re going to leave.”

“What’s with you this morning?”

Nicoli came to her defense. “She’s not feeling well."

Dugan’s attitude changed immediately, becoming one of fatherly concern. He had slipped easily back into his familiar role when Angel returned to Earth with a new husband in tow, though he hadn't acted thrilled with the idea of having a government agent as a pseudo son-in-law, claiming it was bad for business. Angel, however, knew he secretly admired her husband.

“You drink too much Martian ale last night?” Dugan stood close to her now. “I told you to go easy on that stuff.”

“No. I didn’t even drink last night,” Angel argued, fighting another wave of nausea as it roiled in her stomach. “Ask Martin if you don’t believe me.”

She peeked up at the bartender, who always seemed to be wiping the counter.

“That’s the truth, Dugan. Not a drop for our girl, here. Wasn’t feeling too good last night either, as I recall.”

“I think she might have picked up a bug over on Zeta Prime,” Nicoli offered by way of explanation. “It’s the middle of the rainy season there.”

“What were you doing in that God-forsaken part of the quadrant?” Dugan asked.

“Just debugging a computer program,” Nicoli replied casually.

Angel snorted. “We had to steal it back from the Wathuilies first.”

“Well, yeah. We had to do that, too.” Nicoli replied.

“That’s it.” Dugan slammed his fist down on the counter. “Sorry,” he said when Angel groaned. “You’re not going on any more of these missions, do you understand?”

“We’re not?” Nicoli sounded amused and Angel hoped he would humor Dugan. She wasn’t sure she could handle one of their “debates” on the dangers inherent in her and Nicoli’s new line of consulting work.

“Actually,” Nicoli continued. “We’re going to Coronado for a few months. Angel’s mom is due to deliver in a week or so and Yanur, who can bring the dead back to life, suddenly doesn’t feel capable of delivering his own child.”

“Oh.” Angel heard the disappointment in Dugan’s voice. “When were you planning to leave?”

“That kind of depends on you,” Nicoli said.

“I don’t follow.”

Angel raised her head to look first at Dugan, then at Martin. “Well, to be honest, I was hoping you two would go with us. Mom and Yanur would love to have you visit. And you said the other day how you wouldn’t mind checking out the place.”

Dugan and Martin exchanged surprised looks, then a slow smile spread across both faces.

“You want us to go with you?” Martin asked.

“Unless you don’t feel like you can leave.” Angel said, knowing full well that both men had enough money put away that they could afford to take off, indefinitely.

“What about those Harvesters?” Martin sounded a little dubious.

“There are no Harvesters left on Coronado,” Nicoli reassured him. “Rianol, I mean Brother Joh’nan, achieved his goal better than he realized. He saved his people. The entire colony of initiates has been fully indoctrinated into the Coronadian society. They are living happy, healthy, normal lives – or at least as well as anyone could on that backward planet.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. Mom and Yanur have done a lot to turn things around. Everyone has accepted Yanur as the new High Counsel and Mom said they’re getting fewer complaints about her attending the counsel sessions.

“And the Harvesters did bring an aptitude for technology with them, so in another fifteen years, when Yanur and Mom retire and it’s our turn to run the planet, Coronado will practically be state---”

There wasn't time to finish the sentence before Angel bolted from her stool and ran into the bathroom, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the waste disposal. When she was sure nothing more would come up, she wet a cloth and wiped her face. This morning ritual had grown too familiar of late.

She emerged from the bathroom to find Dugan and Martin gawking at her and Nicoli looking very troubled.

“What?” She felt a little on display. At that moment, her stomach growled and she looked over at Martin. “Got any food in the place? I’m famished.”

“I thought you didn’t feel well,” Dugan said suspiciously.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m feeling better now.”

Dugan turned to Nicoli. “How long has this been going on?”

“About three weeks, near as I can tell.”

A slow smile spread across Dugan’s face. “Interesting. Well, by all means, Martin and I will go with you to Coronado.”

Martin looked surprised. “We will?”

Dugan chuckled. “Hell, yeah. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Angel looked at Dugan. He knew. It wasn’t fair. It was her body and even she wasn’t sure. Before she could say anything, he walked back to his office.

“Be sure to pack enough clothes,” he shouted to Martin when he reached the doorway. “At least enough for eight or nine months, maybe longer.” He shut the door and they heard him laughing on the other side.

Martin rushed around the counter and gave her a hug.

“Congratulations, girl. I gotta go pack.” He walked to the front door, locked it and placed a “Closed” sign in the window. Then he disappeared upstairs.

Nicoli had been unusually quiet during this exchange and Angel found she was afraid to look at him. They’d never talked about having kids. After the childhood experience he’d had, she wasn’t sure he wanted any. She felt, rather than saw, him step closer.

“Angel? Is it true?” He whispered as if speaking louder might shatter the moment.

“I think so.” She turned hopeful eyes up to study his face. “I was going to ask Yanur to scan me when we got to Coronado.”

A smile crept across his face and he gathered her into his arms.

“Are you okay with this?” She asked. “I mean, we never really talked about it.”

“Am I okay?” He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure I know how to be a father. But yes, I’m okay. I want kids.”

She looked up amazed. “You do?”

He smiled. “I’ve wanted kids since the moment I saw you.”

She laughed. “The first time you saw me, I was lying naked on a gurney in the middle of the Harvesters’ processing building. Somehow I don’t think having kids was on your mind.”

“True, but the thoughts I had were along those lines.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Shall I tell you all about them?”

“No. I’d rather you show me.”

He reached down and lifted her into his arms.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, resting her head against his shoulder as he headed for the stairs.

“To the stars and beyond.”

Dark Side of the Sun

The next book in the Sun Series

Coming soon...

Chapter 1

Hell's Gate Space Station

The Outer Rim 3895 A.D.

So this is Hell, Phoenix thought, looking around. It had taken two chartered ships, three hyper-leaps and four wormholes to get to Hell’s Gate. Now that she’d arrive, the space station wasn’t what she’d expected. Of course, she’d never been to The Outer Rim. In fact, she’d never been anywhere before.

Tired and nervous, she stood just inside the entrance to the only bar, her small duffle bag with a change of clothes clutched in her hand, and braced herself against the assault on her senses. In the back of the room, a band played a blaring tune, competing with the boisterous drone of those gathered to eat, drink and generally make merry. The odor of stale ale mixed with the stench of smoke and unwashed bodies until the overall effect made her nauseous.

The bar patrons just plain scared her. Though she tried to think of this as a grand adventure, the bottom line was that the Outer Rim drew a specific type of individual and twenty-two year old Phoenix Eemin was way out of her element.

She wanted to turn and leave, but she had come for a reason and he was somewhere in this crowd. Unfortunately, she had no clue where to start looking.

She fought her way through the crowd, feeling conspicuous in the flowing robes of a Xenobian priestess even though she knew no one would bother her. Xenobian priestesses were awarded universal respect for their empathic powers. The fact that she’d “borrowed” the robes was no one’s business but her own and it was unlikely she’d run into any Xenobians who could expose her for the fraud she was.

"I'm looking for Adrian Sun," she shouted to the bartender when she reached the bar. His gaze momentarily narrowed as he considered her, then he jerked his thumb in the direction of two men leaning against the end of the bar.

Phoenix made her way over to them. With their backs to her, they didn't seem to notice her and she had a few moments to study them. Both wore the customary long black coats that were the trademark of bounty hunters. Below those, she caught a glimpse of weathered black boots and was startled when both pairs turned to point toward her.

Embarrassed, she snapped her head up and found herself the object of scrutiny from two pairs of golden brown eyes. The aura of danger they exuded was both intimidating and overwhelming. In a passing, random observation, she noticed both men were ruggedly handsome. The man on her right, with the short, unruly black hair, wore a bemused expression.

The man on her left was just the opposite. He stood a few centimeters shorter than his companion, which was still a full head taller than Phoenix, and his hair was dark blond instead of black. He radiated the same aura of danger, but rather than the bemused look of his friend, his expression was seriousness.

As if compelled by their intensity, she felt her gaze drawn to his eyes. Something in their fathomless depths pulled at her and it was an effort to look away.

"What do you want?” The rich, masculine timbre of his voice washed over her and it took several seconds before she could gather her wits to respond.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she returned his scowl with what she hoped looked like a firm and steady gaze. "I'm looking for Adrian Sun.” She searched each man's face, hoping for a clue that would tell her which man was the one she sought, while rising doubt made her question the wisdom of her decision to come here.

"Why?"

"It's private.” They were drawing attention and she looked around for an empty table. "Perhaps there's someplace quiet where we could talk, Mr. Sun?” She glanced at each man, still not sure to whom she spoke.

"I'm not interested," the serious one said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Whatever you’re selling, I'm not interested.” He turned his back, dismissing her. She saw him raise his hand to hail the bartender, who quickly replaced the empty glass before him with a full one.

"Excuse me.” Phoenix raised her voice to be heard over the loud drone of voices, but he showed no sign of having heard her. She looked to the other man and received a slightly mocking smile before he also turned his back and rejoined his friend.

Irritated to be so easily ignored, Phoenix stepped closer to touch the first man’s arm. No sooner had her fingers brushed the cloth of his duster than he whirled around and grabbed her wrist, holding it in front of him in an iron tight grip.

Panic swept through her but she met the man's steely gaze. In a battle of wills, she tested his hold on her arm and felt his fingers tighten ever so slightly.

"You're hurting me.” She spoke the words slowly, without inflection. This man reeked of danger and yet she sensed he meant her no real harm.

He continued to stare at her but then, as if her words finally penetrated, he turned to look at his hand still gripping her wrist. Slowly, his fingers relaxed until she was able to pull free.

She glared at him, rubbing her wrist where it still tingled from his touch. "Adrian Sun, I presume?"

He narrowed his eyes and when he spoke, something dark colored his tone, causing his words to sound like a warning. "You shouldn't be here."

"I have as much right to be here as anyone else.” Phoenix refused to be intimidated. "And I'm not leaving until I talk to you."

He didn't say anything, but neither did he turn his back on her. Frustrated, Phoenix braced herself. “My father told me that if he was ever in trouble, I should get in touch with Adrian Sun, care of Hell’s Gate.”

"Yeah? And who’s your father?”

Skyler O'Mallen."

"Adrian."

Jack's voice penetrated Adrian’s shock as he stared at the young woman claiming to be Skyler's daughter. When had Skyler had time to have a daughter, he wondered? From the looks of it, about twenty years ago, but why hadn't Skyler ever mentioned her? He must have had his reasons.

"Maybe we should sit down," Jack suggested. "There's a table over there.” He motioned for the young woman to follow him as he cut through the crowd. Adrian followed her and quickly found himself mesmerized by the way her body moved beneath the billowy lavender robes. Xenobian Priestess robes, if he wasn't mistaken, and that just added to the mystery. Skyler had a Xenobian daughter?

They sat at the table and for several long moments said nothing. Emerald green eyes studied him from across the table as she sat stiffly. It struck him that while not a classic beauty, she was attractive in an open, innocent way. He wished he could see her hair hidden beneath the drape of the headdress. He wondered if it was dark, blond – or auburn, like Skyler’s. Would it be long and straight? Or had it been shorn off in the same fashion worn by the religious women of Ju-marzen.

"How long have you been a Xenobian Priestess?" Adrian asked, trying to distract himself from her looks. Or maybe he was reminding himself that she’d taken a vow of chastity.

"Six solar cycles.”

"Interesting.” His attention was drawn to the scene unfolding far behind her on the other side of the bar. "I would think being in a place like this would bother you. All the various emotions.”

Two drunken patrons stumbled to their feet and lunged at each other, fists flying while nearby onlookers scrambled out of the way.

"My training allows me to shield myself from the various emotions about me, but I’m always aware of the emotions around me.”

One of the men pulled a trader's blade and lunged at his opponent, nearly slicing off the man's arm in a sweeping arc. The man screamed in obvious pain, but the sound did not carry over the general noise level in the bar. The woman before Adrian seemed oblivious to it all.

He gave her a slow smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're lying."

"I beg your pardon," she sputtered indignantly in what Adrian considered a moderately good performance.

"You're no more a Xenobian Priestess than I am."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Adrian cut her off. "Save your breath. We get all sorts out here in the Outer Rim and they all lie better than you do."

She stared at him for a moment and he could almost hear thoughts and more lies tumbling around in her head as she tried to figure out what story to tell him next. Beside him, Jack remained quiet.

"Okay," she finally admitted. "You’re right. I'm not a Priestess. I'm not even an Empath. I thought I'd be safer dressed this way." She gave him a defiant look. “But I wasn’t lying about being Skyler O’Mallen’s daughter.”

She pulled off the headdress and long auburn hair, the same color as Skyler’s, cascaded down in thick, soft-looking waves. Something in Adrian's gut tightened, but he ignored it.

"Let's start over. My name, you know. This is my partner, Jack Jones. And you are...?"

"Phoenix Eemin. My father thought it would be better if I took my mother’s maiden name.” She paused, but when he didn't say anything, she continued. “My father’s work doesn’t let me see him in person very often, but we stay in touch. Every other week for the last ten years, we’ve met at the same virtual cloud café. Sometimes, we talk for hours. Other times, he’s only there long enough to let me know he’s okay.” She paused again. “I didn’t show up last week.”

“One missed session isn’t cause for alarm,” Adrian pointed out.

“It was my birthday. He’s never missed my birthday.”

“He’s probably deep undercover and couldn’t get away. He’ll show up at the next session.”

Despite his reassuring words, Adrian glanced at Jack, knowing his friend shared his concern. At Adrian's slight nod, Jack pushed away from the table and stood.

"If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” He offered Phoenix a pleasant smile. "It was nice meeting you.” He didn't wait for her reply, but turned and walked out of the bar.

Adrian steeled his expression and turned his attention back to the woman. "I’ll ask around and see what I can find out. In the meantime, you should go home."

"I’m staying," Phoenix said with a stubbornness Adrian had seen many times in her father. “Despite what you think, I know he’s in trouble. I can feel it.”

“I thought you said you weren’t an empath.”

She shot him a withering look but he cut her off before she could say anything more.

"It isn't safe for you to be in this part of the galaxy.” Impatience gave his words a sharp edge but he didn’t care. There was no way he could let her stay in the Outer Rim. He owed Skyler that much.

"I can take care of myself."

The force of her green gaze caught him off guard. It had been a long time since he'd noticed the color of a woman’s eyes and the fact that he’d noticed hers did little to improve his temper.

“Fine.” Pushing away from the table, he stood. "Let's go."

"You'll help me?"

He inwardly winced at her hopeful tone. "I’ll help you.” Just not in the way you're expecting.

She stood and Adrian immediately noticed the stares from the male patrons. "Better put that headdress back on; you're attracting too much attention.”

He was glad she didn't question him, but immediately complied. Once the piece was again covering her long hair, Adrian felt better, though he missed the sight of it himself.

"Come on." He took her by the elbow, giving her no option but to walk with him.

He escorted her out of the bar and through the corridors that would take them to the landing bay. They walked in silence while Adrian kept a constant vigil for the petty thieves and other criminals that haunted the passages of the space station. More than once, Adrian caught Phoenix sneaking looks at him. Her silence only lasted until they reached the landing bay when Adrian stopped at the booking office.

"What are you doing?" She asked a minute later when he forcefully guided her to the waiting area after purchasing a boarding pass.

"I'm sending you home."

"I thought you were going to help me."

Adrian ignored the hurt in her tone. "I am helping you - by making sure you stay alive. Go home, Ms. Eemin. The Outer Rim is no place for a woman like you."

"You don't know what kind of woman I am.” She thrust out her chin in a defiant gesture. "I can take care of myself. If you won't help me, then I'll find someone who will.” She scanned the area and, spotting a couple of workers not far off, walked over to them. Unseen, Adrian followed behind her.

"Excuse me," she said to them. "I was wondering if you might help me."

The workers glanced at her, interest clearly in their eyes. Adrian moved closer, his hand on his laser, the threat of something dark and painful in his eyes. Without waiting to hear what she had to say, the men quickly gathered their things and hurried off.

Not easily daunted, Phoenix scowled at him and tried again with another group of dockworkers. Again, Adrian discouraged them with a look.

Finally, after several more failed attempts, she gave up. "Fine. You win."

"Clearly."

When the ship was ready to leave, he saw her settled on board. An unfamiliar emotion flitted through him at the thought that he'd never see her again, but he quickly suppressed it. There were more pressing matters to tend to.

"If I run into your father, I'll send word to you."

She turned a withering gaze on him but said nothing.

He left her sitting there, scowling after him and waited on the docking bay until the ship's doors closed in preparation for take-off. Only then did he head back to the bar where Jack waited for him.

"What'd you find out?"

"I couldn't reach Skyler’s ship," Jack said. "And we haven’t received any messages from him. I asked around and no one knows anything. It's like he vanished."

“That’s impossible. We just saw him two weeks ago, on Oethiron. Something must have happened while he was transporting that bastaghoeff Juarez back to Earth.” Adrian rubbed his head, a futile effort to wipe away the beginnings of a raging headache. The situation was getting worse by the nano-second.

Skyler was a security forces agent who worked so deeply undercover that not even his own government would help him if he was in trouble. Already skirting the fine line of the law, there was always the risk that an agent might be caught or change allegiance.

The government's safeguard against a captured or rogue agent revealing government secrets was the tiny time-release capsule surgically implanted in the agent's heart. It contained neo-cyanide, the fastest-acting, deadliest poison in the known galaxy. At designated times, an agent was required to check in and take a brain-scan test proving he or she was of sound mind and body and still loyal to the government. If they passed the test, then the capsule's timer was reset. If they failed, the capsule was allowed to release its poison, eliminating the agent, and thus the threat, once and for all.

Skyler had once said he lived his life one month at a time. He’d been headed back to Earth when Adrian and Jack had last seen him to turn in a prisoner – and maybe to get his timer reset? If he’d reached Earth and had his timer reset before disappearing, then Adrian and Jack had three weeks to find him before it was too late. If trouble had befallen Skyler before he’d made it back to Earth, then they were working against a much tighter deadline.

“How long to ready the ship?” Adrian asked, staring into a glass of black Smuggler’s Swill, plagued by his troubled thoughts.

“An hour. Two at max,” Jack replied. “Do I need to ask where we’re going?”

Adrian tossed back the contents of his glass and braced for the burn. Then he set the glass back on the table and met Jack’s gaze. “Purgatory.”

* * * * *

Thirteen hours after she left Hell’s Gate, Phoenix sat staring blindly out the ship's front view screen, her thoughts replaying the meeting she'd had with Adrian Sun and his friend, Jack. She'd seen the look on their faces. They knew more about her father and his whereabouts than they'd shared with her and that confirmed what she already suspected. Her father was in trouble.

Xenobian parents and children shared a special familial link; a psychic tether that bound them together across time and space. It had been assumed that the link Phoenix shared with her mother was sustained by her mother's empathic abilities, since Phoenix had never evidenced any of her own. Everyone generally assumed that she was a null. It wasn’t entirely true, but Phoenix had never told anyone that she also shared a link with her non-Xenobian father.

Not nearly as strong as the one she shared with her mother, it was there, nonetheless, like a fishing bobber on still waters, floating lightly, barely noticeable. Lately, though, that bobber had started to dip beneath the surface - a clear sign that the link, and by default, her father's life, was in jeopardy. It was that observation that had motivated her to leave home and set out to find him.

She wasn't about to turn back now.

When she had seen the surly bounty hunter leave the docking bay, she'd gathered her resolve about her like diamonite armor and demanded that the ship's doors be opened so she could disembark. She felt no guilt asking the ticket master to refund her ticket or in accepting the money he handed her.

Without the bounty hunter there to scare off everyone she talked to, Phoenix soon found a new source of help in the person of little Mr. Zimmers. Recognizing her outfit and thinking her a genuine Xenobian Priestess, he had hurriedly offered his services when he'd heard her predicament. He too knew a man who could help her, and in exchange for a modest fee, had offered to fly her to him.

Sensing no malice in his intent, Phoenix had accepted his offer, handing over Adrian's money without hesitation. She only hoped that Mr. Zimmer’s contact would be more helpful than Adrian had been.

Once settled on board Mr. Zimmer’s ship, fatigue from the excess stimuli and stress of Hell's Gate caught up to her and she had slept, albeit fitfully, for most of the trip.

Now they were on final approach to Purgatory and Phoenix could barely contain her excitement. She remembered reading about it back home, in the General Galactic Studies.

Purgatory was an old krystalite mining planet. Decades ago, it boasted the largest single source of the energy-producing crystal, but mining efforts had been ruthless, without thought to conservation. Now, after years of stripping the planet clean of its natural resource, it was virtually uninhabitable. The only city on Purgatory was actually built several thousand kilometers above the surface of the planet, in the clouds. Phoenix had read about the technology that kept "Heaven" floating in place and the air breathable, but didn't understand it. To her, the city was just another part of her grand adventure.

Docking took little time and once the ship came to a full halt and the stasis field was activated to hold the ship in place, Mr. Zimmers shut down the engines. Phoenix looked out the front view port, feeling a little uneasy at the sight of the flat, open platform that served as a landing base. There were no safety walls in place and she wondered what kept people from falling off. The surface of the planet was a long way down.

"Are you ready, Priestess?” The portly Mr. Zimmers gave her a comforting smile.

"Yes, thank you.” Phoenix tried to adopt the worldly tone used by the real priestesses on her home planet. "I appreciate all you've done for me."

Mr. Zimmers bowed before her. "It is my pleasure."

Phoenix followed him off the bridge and along the passageway to the hatch. Stepping from the ship, she noticed that three men stood waiting for them. One was older and, as he moved forward, she wondered if he might be a soldier because of his stiff, precise posture. The other two, both younger, also looked like soldiers and Phoenix couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Heaven was now some type of military base.

"Greetings, Priestess," the older man said. "My name is Marcus. Mr. Dante, the administrator of our cloud city, extends his welcome and asks for the pleasure of your company. If you will follow me?"

She started to follow, but then noticed that Mr. Zimmers was no longer beside her. Looking around, she spotted him sandwiched between the other two men. She was not so naive as to think they were just ill-mannered, but neither was she experienced enough to know precisely what was happening. For a moment, she considered going to his assistance.

A touch at her elbow, gentle but firm, had her looking up into Marcus' serious expression. "Mr. Zimmers has other business. If you’ll come with me?"

There didn't seem to be much of a choice. Phoenix allowed Marcus to escort her across the landing platform, leading her through floating wisps of clouds that dispersed as they passed through them. There was only the slightest breeze and the surrounding silence gave the place a calm, peaceful feeling. Looking over the side of the platform, Phoenix saw the fuzzy shapes of mountains and mining camps far below. A shiver traveled up her spine and she moved a little more toward the center of the platform.

"Has anyone ever fallen over the edge?" she nervously asked Marcus.

He gave her a steady look. "No one has ever... fallen...over the edge."

Phoenix shot him a look, but kept her mouth shut. Sometimes it was better not to know the details.

She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief once they were safely through the doors and walking inside the city's main building. People filled the corridors, going about their business and only occasionally glancing at her.

Marcus led her through a complex pattern of corridors that traveled further into the floating city until he finally stopped before a set of large double-doors. Two very intimidating guards stood on either side, but Marcus paid them no heed as he raised his hand and knocked. From inside, a voice beckoned them to enter.

Marcus ushered her through the door and into a plush room, with crimson carpet and black furniture. Obviously designed for comfort, the room included a sunken pit in the center with cushioned, perimeter seating and low-level lighting. A retractable viewing screen hung from the ceiling near the left wall and a long conference table with chairs stood to the right side of the room.

"Is this the Priestess?"

"Yes, Mr. Dante, this is the Xenobian priestess," Marcus answered, gently urging her forward.

Phoenix looked for the owner of the gravelly voice. The first fine thread of apprehension wove through her consciousness at the sight of him.

Dressed in a black trader's outfit with dark hair streaked with gray, he may have been in his fifties or sixties. His once handsome face was battle worn with a particularly bad scar running down the right side of his forehead, across a patched right eye and across his cheek.

Expensive rings flashed on his fingers, but it was the panther at his feet that really caught her attention. The large cat seemed content to sit and have its head stroked while the man spoke soothing words to it under his breath.

"How...how do you do?” Phoenix instinctively lowered her voice, not wanting to startle either the man or the animal. The thought that she should have taken Adrian's advice flickered through her mind.

"I do fine.” Dante's words sounded calculated, as if polite conversation did not come naturally to him. "It is very nice to meet you, Priestess--?"

"Eemin," she supplied, darting a quick glance around the room. "Phoenix Eemin.”

"You are looking for your father, are you not?"

His tone made her uneasy. "Yes. I was told you might be able to help me?"

"Perhaps. I have many resources, but I'm afraid nothing is free."

"I understand." She tried to sound as if she conducted business of this nature all the time. "What is your fee?"

"To search the entire Outer Rim? Without offending the other underworld leaders who reside here? A million units of exchange, minimum."

Phoenix gasped. A million units? She didn't have that kind of money. She fought her frustration and disappointment. "I'm sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Dante. I'm afraid I can't afford that."

He smiled. "Few can, my dear. Few can. But perhaps we can work out a trade; an exchange of services."

"A trade?” Exactly what did this man have in mind? Stories as old as time of young women sold as sex slave flashed through her mind, but before she could voice concern or protest, Mr. Dante continued.

"In my line of business, I deal with hundreds of traders from all over the galaxy. I am fairly adept at discerning which ones are dealing with me honestly, and which are not. However, over time, many have grown clever in their deceit and, though I loathe admitting it, I am fallible. But you are not."

A slight nervous ringing began in her ears. Exactly what was he suggesting? "I'm not sure I understand."

"You are a Xenobian Priestess, are you not?” He waved his free hand to indicate her outfit.

No, her mind screamed. "Yes."

He smiled. "It is impossible for anyone to hide his or her true nature from a Xenobian Priestess. The entire galaxy knows this."

"Perhaps.” She spoke tentatively, still not sure where this was leading. "I don't see what this has to do with my father."

He'd been looking down to where his fingers stroked the top of the cat's head, but now raised his head until his look met hers. "I'm talking about an exchange of services. You tell me when my business associates are lying to me and I'll expend my personal resources toward finding your father."

Her mind whirled, weighing her options. Could she do it? Without empathic abilities, she'd become adept at reading body language, but was that good enough to pull off such a deception?

"If you’d rather not," Dante continued in her silence, "I will have Marcus make arrangements for your return to Hell's Gate. It is your choice."

She felt trapped. This might be the only way she could find her father. Silently, she cursed Adrian Sun for not helping her and took a deep breath.

“All right. You have a deal.”

In the back of her mind, she heard a door slam shut.

"Very good. It pleases me that you've accepted my offer. Let's start immediately, shall we? Marcus, please show in Mr. Zimmers.” Dante's voice filled the room as Phoenix tried to gather her scattered thoughts. Exactly what had she gotten herself into?

Marcus crossed the room and opened the door. He nodded his head and then stood back while Mr. Zimmers, escorted by the two men she'd seen earlier, entered the room. The portly little man's eyes scanned the area, resting briefly on her before darting away.

"Mr. Zimmers," Dante began pleasantly, still stroking the big cat. "Please, come in.” He gestured with his free hand to indicate that Mr. Zimmers should stand before him.

"I thank you for bringing Priestess Eemin to me. We will be working together for the next little while, to our mutual benefit.”

"You're welcome, Mr. Dante. I knew," Mr. Zimmers shot her another glance, "I mean, I'd hoped, um, well... glad I could help.” His words trailed off and he fell silent.

The smile on Dante's face grew cooler. "Yes, well...there is one other matter I wish to discuss with you. Tell me - the shipment you delivered to Kathgar for me, did you encounter any problems?"

"No, Mr. Dante.” Mr. Zimmers spoke in a carefully controlled tone of voice. "The trip went smoothly."

"That's good to hear. And the shipment of stones was delivered in full?"

"Yes, Mr. Dante. I delivered it myself."

It suddenly occurred to Phoenix that Dante was testing her as much as he was testing Mr. Zimmers. He wanted to know if the little man was lying, so she turned her head to study him. She watched the way he played with his hands and never fully looked Dante in the face. She noticed the rapid blinking of his eyes and the way he leaned back, trying to put as much distance has he could between Dante and himself without actually stepping back.

Everything about him reeked of duplicity; it didn't take a full Xenobian Priestess to know the man was lying. Phoenix felt certain that Dante knew that as well as she did, but she shook her head anyway.

Dante gestured to Marcus, who led the two guards from the room. The door closed after them with an ominous click that echoed in the quiet.

Dante seemed satisfied to let the silence go uninterrupted while Mr. Zimmers shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

After several long minutes, the door to the room reopened and Marcus walked in. Behind him followed the two guards carrying something between them, though what it was, Phoenix couldn't see. The men stepped into the pit, between Dante and Mr. Zimmers, and let the item slide to the floor.

"What the hell?” Mr. Zimmers jumped back, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Oh m--," Phoenix gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth and nose as she pushed herself back into her chair. She turned her head so she wouldn’t see the dead man's torso, but the acrid stench of rotting flesh assaulted her senses, forcing her to breathe in shallow gasps. Never before had she been exposed to anything so horrific and she fought the bile rising in her throat. She tried to keep her eyes averted from the sight, but morbid curiosity won out.

The man, whoever he was, had obviously suffered a gruesome death, judging from the raw stubs where arms and legs had once been attached.

The panther stood on all fours, a soft, deep growl vibrating in its throat, its tail twitching.

"Sh-sh-sh," Dante soothed the beast, seemingly unaffected. "Mr. Zimmers, do you recognize him?"

The little man looked confused. Out of the corner of her eye, Phoenix saw him take a closer look.

"No, I don't. I mean, it's hard to tell."

"Rogers," Dante said in a voice that sounded tight. "His name was Rogers. He was one of my men. Kathgar's people intercepted him on a recent flight. Apparently they were not happy with the shipment of gemstones they received; the shipment you delivered."

Even without empathic powers, Phoenix felt the level of tension in the room rise a notch. Unable to turn away, she watched the interplay between the two men.

"I don't understand. I delivered the stones.” His tone wavered.

"It seems that while they paid for one hundred stones, they received only ninety-nine. As I personally placed the stones in the bag, I know that I did not short the count. Someone is lying - is it you? Or Kathgar?"

Phoenix knew Mr. Zimmers had realized her purpose there when he shot her a desperate look. His face grew pale and his breathing became rapid.

Finally, he spoke, his voice almost a whisper. "It was a very small stone.” His eyes darted back and forth between Phoenix, Dante and Marcus, as if wondering where in the room he might find an ally. He turned to Dante. "Please, Your Eminence. I’m sorry. I didn't mean any harm. I didn't think anyone would notice."

“I’m sure Rogers will understand.” Dante’s tone dripped with sarcasm. "I made a deal with Kathgar, Mr. Zimmers," he continued in precise, well enunciated words. "In this business, we live, and die, by the deals we make."

Phoenix saw raw fear leech the color from Mr. Zimmers' face.

"Please, Mr. Dante. I'll give the stone back."

Dante seemed to consider. "You still have it?"

Mr. Zimmers cast a nervous glance at the door. "Yes, yes. I could go get it now, if you want."

"Marcus will accompany you.” Dante gestured for Marcus to step forward. "To ensure there are no further misunderstandings."

"Oh, thank you, Your Benevolence.”

At Dante's dismissive nod, Marcus escorted Mr. Zimmers from the room. Unbidden, an image formed in Phoenix's mind of the landing pad's rail-free walkway and the long fall to the surface below. She shuddered, shaking off the image. She was being fanciful. Dante would not kill Mr. Zimmers over something as minor as a missing gemstone. Would he?

Dante pointed to the dead man's remains and the two guards came forward. They lifted the torso between them with no outward sign that the task, the odor, or the sight bothered them, and carried it from the room. Phoenix felt the aftermath of the emotionally charged session in the ebb of her own energy level and slumped back in her seat.

Dante gave her a studied look and she held her breath. Finally he nodded and smiled. "You did well today, Priestess. I apologize for the unpleasantness; you should not have had to see that. You must be fatigued."

Was there something more to his statement than the surface-level show of concern? Unsure how to respond, she said nothing.

"I will have a room prepared for you. In the meantime, I would be honored to have you join me for the evening meal."

He then pushed a button on the table beside him and almost immediately, an elderly woman appeared.

"Please have a room prepared for Priestess Eemin. She will be staying with us for awhile. A suite I think, perhaps along the inner corridor, and let Cook know there will be two for dinner this evening."

The elderly woman nodded and left.

"Tomorrow, I will give you a tour of my city and then I have several business meetings that I would like for you to attend. Will that be acceptable?"

His tone suggested that the question was merely a courtesy. Her attendance at the meetings was part of their agreement. She couldn't refuse, not if she wanted to find her father. So she smiled and nodded.

"Good." Dante rose gracefully to his feet, offering her a hand. Standing, she noticed that he stood not much taller than she. As the panther rose beside them, Dante gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

She preceded him out of his audience chamber and then allowed him to escort her down a hall until they reached a private dining room. A table already laden with food stood at the center and Phoenix eyed it, amazed she could feel hungry after seeing the corpse. Beside Dante, the panther seemed to grow agitated and Phoenix wondered if it might be hungry, too. If so, would the cat prefer its meal cooked?

Or raw and still fighting for her life?

Walking to the far side of the table, she put distance between herself and the animal. She was relieved when a man appeared to lead the panther away.

Dinner was surprisingly enjoyable. Dante made for an interesting dinner companion, entertaining her with stories of his travels throughout the galaxy, telling her of places she had only read about in the e-journals. Afterwards, he showed her to the room where she would be sleeping. As he'd requested, it was an internal room and therefore had no windows, but it was by far the most luxurious suite she'd ever stayed in. Her feet sank into the plush carpet and the crisp, homeland-quality linens on the bed beckoned to her weary body.

"I hope you will find these accommodations comfortable. As you can see, your bag has already been delivered from Mr. Zimmers' ship. If you need anything, you have simply to press the intercom and ask."

Phoenix looked around, suddenly very ready to spend a little time alone. "Thank you, Mr. Dante. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"In that case, I will leave you. For your own protection, I suggest you lock your door. Our cloud city can be a dangerous place. I will have Marcus come for you in the morning. Breakfast is served at oh-eight-hundred sharp."

With that, he turned and left her alone. After locking the door as suggested, Phoenix began unpacking.

Twenty minutes later, she had washed and changed into her nightshirt. Though the session with Dante and Mr. Zimmers had been stressful and tiring, Phoenix found she was too restless to sleep. There was a vid-screen with an assortment of entertainment discs, so she climbed into bed and watched a movie, hoping to unwind. After an hour or so, she turned everything off and closed her eyes.

Though she was bone tired and the bed felt luxurious, sleep eluded her. Dozens of images flooded her mind, from Dante and his panther, to Mr. Zimmers and the dead man's body.

Ironically, though these images were troubling, it was the memory of a tall, dangerous looking man with short unruly blond hair and penetrating deep golden brown eyes that kept her awake.

Where was he now?

And why did she care?

Other Books by Robin T. Popp

www.robintpopp.com

The Night Slayer Series

Out of the Night

Seduced by the Night

Tempted by the Night

Lord of the Night

The Immortals Series

The Darkening

The Haunting

The Reckoning