Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End (6 page)

“Yeah, we’ll see.” I try to brighten up. “Hey, I was actually supposed to meet a friend here. Lieutenant Daria Preston. Maybe you know of her?”

“Oh sure. She was here about 15 minutes ago.”

She was?

“Where’d she go, do you know?” It takes some effort to rearrange my surprised features and to ask this casually.

“She was waiting at the bar. Talked to a few officers. But she left quickly. Didn’t even finish her Pink Beluga.” His dejected tone suggests he’s put out by that.

I think it’s mildly disturbing how he knows what she was drinking.

I glance back over his shoulder. A face, among the dozens of male faces in my sight line, stands out for some reason.
Oh, Lt. Lazarus
.

Wait, what’s he doing here?

No, it isn’t him. The messy black hair I spied is gone.
Er, was that him
? I could swear I just saw him near the exit.
Did he follow me here?

Ah, there’s no law against an officer grabbing a quick drink, Cassiel
.
You’re really starting to lose it
, I think, checking myself.

“Did you see her?” Todd asks, glancing back where I’m staring.

“Ah, I thought I did, but it wasn’t her,” I lie.

It’s odd and kind of annoying that Daria would leave suddenly, right around the same time I Missived that I was on my way. I drink the rest of my Kir Imperial in two gulps. “Well, thanks for the drink Todd. But I’ve got a meeting I’ve got to get back to.”

“Now?” He’s not buying it. “Come on, stay for another.”

I smile but I’m sure he can tell that was forced. “I can’t, honest, another time,” I add, shifting away from his penetrating eyes.
He can see right through you
. My ears burn hot all the way to the exit.

Wow
. Tomorrow’s going to go real well if that was any indication. Daz always said my face is an open book.

The Thell’eons
. If they look at me anything like Todd just did, I’ll disintegrate. I will. I mean, am I really just supposed to strut onto their ship and seduce the sift out of them? How will they react? What if they’re all moist and crusty like the Gogols?
Oh sweet supernova, no
. How am I supposed to pretend to be attracted to that?

I can’t breathe.
What’s that ringing?

Your brain. Sending out alarm bells!

Calm down
. This Cora Somebody can work some magic, show you how to be cooler, much more in control of these kinds of situations. Pinning my hopes on her, I practically dash back to the prep team, energized with renewed fear, willing to sacrifice sleep entirely.

Chapter 7

It’s zero two hundred hours. We depart for the operation in less than seven hours. I know I need to go to my pod and sleep. Lt. Lazarus cautioned me it’s vital to be well rested, but my head’s so full, I can’t think straight. I guess that’s good; it keeps me from properly focusing on running to the nearest velo and flying my ass back to Earth.
You’re doing this for Daz
.

I run over the condensed coaching, sitting where they left me, in an officers’ meeting room on Level C.

Cora Smith, my coach, was not at all what I expected. The short, middle-aged, matronly woman sported a chopped, gray bob, which matched the sharp angles of her gray suit and skirt. She was calm, assertive, and commanding, which I attribute to her thick Brit accent (only humans from the region that used to be called the United Kingdom retain the unique English accent thanks to a preservation society). I took an instant liking to her. But then, I’m always searching for a mother figure.

When we were introduced in the emptied officers’ mess (I didn’t realize they had their own special quarters), she didn’t do what most women do, which is to put up a defensive wall or put out an offensive vibe around me. She smiled at me warmly, directly.

“Well, well, looks like you could show us a thing or two, my dear,” she said, appraising me. When I was confused by her remark, she in turn seemed surprised.

Her face fell.

“How many years has she been with ESE?” she demanded of Lt. Lazarus, hostile.

I almost laughed because Lt. Lazarus submitted to her female authority like he was 12.

“She’s a first-year cadet, ma’am.”

“Don’t worry,” I interjected. “I agreed to do this. I’ll do my best,” I added, smiling, hoping to inspire more confidence in her. I really needed her to believe in me.

But she just sighed and said, frowning, “I’m sure you will, my dear.” She seemed more detached after that. No matter how I tried to impress her, I couldn’t reestablish that connection.

The time flew over the five or so hours they spent with me. Mrs. Smith focused strictly on improving my ability to identify and interpret patterns in actions, dialogue, and behavior. She’d screen hypothetical scenarios on the mini Lightvision
TM.33
pad, each with an objective, like ‘spot the mole’ or ‘eliminate the red herring.’ She gave me suggestions, hints, pointed out clues that helped me to catch lies, to read body language, to connect the dots.

I wondered what Yamalda, the company Cora works for, was really all about considering the private sector’s permitted only to engage with alien species on business matters. But, of course, I couldn’t ask.

Lt. Lazarus spent time talking me through what’s known about Thell’eon technology, in the hopes I might be able to access their systems and download information. We know so little. Several blueprints of Thell’eon warships were recovered from the failed mission (Will they be Daz’s salvation?), but there’s no way of knowing if any of them will apply to the ship I’ll be on tomorrow. The blueprints will be downloaded to my com-tab, and I plan to do my best to memorize them before I fall asleep.

Lt. Lazarus explained that I’ll be carrying one piece of important technology I didn’t know ESE had—a decoder stealth device. You wave it over a tech system and its programming’s sent out on radiation fields to deprogram any protective shields, decode and download intel.

I think, with a flush, about how I panicked when they decided to wrap up.

“Is that it?” I asked, louder than I thought. I clarified, softly adding, “What about the other stuff?”

Cora comprehended my meaning.

“Gentleman, would you leave us please?”

When they were gone I steadied myself, and said, “Now show me the other stuff.”

She laughed at me.

“My dear, teaching a virgin in the art of seduction is like teaching a child to be an adult—impossible.” Her words stung me, like a slap in the face, and left me speechless.

“Anyway, they’ve chosen you with good reason,” she added with a ‘chin up’ kind of tone. “Your innocence will be your only advantage in all of this, I suspect. ESE Command is . . . shrewd. Have faith in that.” And with that, she took my limp hand, shook it, wished me luck, and left the officers’ mess.

And now, here I sit, not a little stunned by the entire day’s events.

Back to the item that bugs me the most; how frustrated I am with King for not sharing with me even the possibility that Daz is in trouble. Maybe he’s trying not to scare me. I wish I had his trust in ESE. I sure could use a praline sundae with warm caramel syrup drizzled over it.

Just when I rise, having decided to go to my pod, but not before I rummage around for a pathetic rice pudding in the nearby food station, the door vanishes.

King, standing at the threshold.

My heart skips a beat as I take in his avid face, and his black pants and jacket fitted out with a gamma-shield vest and weapons.
OKAY
. This is very odd. He’s in full combat gear.

His eyes don’t stray from mine as he strides into the room, stopping in front of me.

“I’ve been waiting for them to leave,” he says quietly, staring down at me. A smile of pleasure forming on my mouth’s cut short as he continues. “You’re making a huge mistake, Cassiel. You must not go through with this mission. Even with proper training, you will be in great danger. I won’t allow it.”

I raise my eyebrows. Allow it? But before I can say a word he continues, taking a step closer.

“Listen to me,” he says, holding my eyes with his. His presence, his intense focus on me, is literally speeding up my pulse. “I promised Daz that I would look after you if anything ever happened to him.”

Pop
—goes the sound of my heart imploding.

So, he
is
burdened with a
brotherly
obligation to Daz.

King continues, oblivious or deliberately ignoring my sagging shoulders while any vestige of hope in me spills out onto the floor.

“I thought getting you into ESE, keeping you close, would allow me to watch over you,”
Shut up! I want to scream
, “and help you to pursue xeno studies.”

You’re so stupid
.
Of course King’s interest in you is nothing more than a sense of duty.

“Now if Daz knew how ESE was using you, how they took advantage of you in the test today, for example,” he pauses, trying to gather some calm, “he would kill them all.”

Uh,
no
. Daz is not some crazed killer.

King adjusts his gamma gun holster, like he’s reminding himself it’s there.

“Why did you quote that poem to me before the test anyway?” I ask sullenly, sidetracked by his mention of the test. I cross my arms and hold them tight to me. I want to build a wall up around me, and fortify it with an army of Gogols.

“Cassiel, I am sorry about that,” he says, clearly regretting it. “I meant that you should try hard, and not sacrifice yourself for another cadet as you did the first time. I should have said what I meant. But there wasn’t time, and I didn’t want you to think I was interfering either, as I know how headstrong you are,” he adds, half-smiling as he studies my face.

He thinks I’m upset about the stupid poem. But I’m not mad at him for confusing me during the test.

“Look,” I say, focusing on the point that really bothers me. “I never asked for your . . . protection. And while I appreciate your help getting me into ESE, for the record, I didn’t need it.”

He raises his eyebrows at this, which I don’t appreciate.

I carry on, pretending not to notice, using my hands to emphasize my points. “I would have done whatever it took to get into ESE. I sensed Daz was in trouble.”

Did King just scoff at me?

“So Marcus has you believing in his speculation. Has it occurred to either of you that this line of inquiry could put Daz in real danger if he’s in on an operation?”

Uh, no, actually it hadn’t. But wait . . .

“If Daz were on a mission, why would Command admit they misplaced him?”

“To throw everyone’s scent off the trail!” he says, exasperated, rolling his eyes at my apparent naivety. “They said they believe there are spies on ESE. It makes sense to conceal his mission,” he adds.

Wait, maybe that’s what King was doing in Daz’s report in my déjà vu
. Maybe King was concealing his mission from internal spies.

I stare at him, trying to deny the fact that if what he says is true, then there’s no way I can help Daz. But
wait
, going through with this mission might help him, right?

“Why don’t you place your trust in me?” King says, suddenly reaching forward, grabbing my hand in his. I lose focus, as the warmth of his touch glides up my arm.

“You cannot go through with this,” he adds, his head tilting to the side slightly, his eyes staring at me imploringly. “Don’t you see, this is the last thing Daz would want you to do?”

He’s right about that. In fact, Daz would flip if he knew I’d joined ESE, especially given the whole woman auto-scanner business. The note signed
D
pops into my mind.

Was it even real?

King’s definitely real. I know that much. Should I listen to him?

“But . . .” I’m torn. This mission may be crazy but I also know how serious it is. It would have to be if they’re relying on me. “What about the sift?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, seeming relieved. “They can send in someone else more experienced. Easily. Besides, I am convinced this sift is nothing more than a ploy by a double-crossing escapee.”

“Anyway,” he adds, brushing aside ESE with total confidence, “they will have to substitute you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a plan for us to leave the station. And we have to go. Now.”

My eyebrows shoot ceiling high. This explains the combat gear. Is he going to steal us out of ESE? He can’t be willing to risk his career to prevent me from doing this?
Is this the most crazy, but totally thrilling, development ever?

“Don’t you think you’re taking your promise to Daz, ah, a little far here?” I try to sound reluctant. “Besides, if I change my mind, I could just tell them I’m not going to do it.”

“They will not just let you out of this! They are set on you, especially the Commandant. Our only chance is to leave. Now.”

I think about Sato and Adm. O’Reilly.
No
. They probably wouldn’t just let me say no. I think about what King’s proposing.
Oh, this is very serious.

What kind of person am I? A runaway? “Then what am I supposed to do?” I ask, finishing a train of thought out loud. “Hide for the rest of my life to avoid an ESE fugitive penalty?”

His dimples crease, even from such a slight, assured smile, and he surprises me when he grabs my other hand. They’re rough, warm, and strong. This proximity to him seems to coincide with a hum inside of me.

Glancing up into his dark blue eyes,
like a stormy sea at dusk lit by the moon
, I’m totally confused by his actions, by what he’s proposing and his intentions. Plus the humming; it’s very distracting.

“I will take care of you,” he adds, tenderly.

Breathe
.

“I know a place where we can go. We will . . . be safe, together,” he adds, searching my face.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. So, he does care for me.

Is that what he’s saying?

“You must know how I feel about you,” he murmurs.

Gladness bursts from within, the long-awaited hope realized, and I have to physically resist the urge to jump on the spot.
He wants you
.

Then it hits me with galvanized force. My own desire for him, long held at bay but nursed tenderly in secret deep down inside,
wow that much?
, is incensed. My mind fights to the foreground:
You will never have enough of him
. Can I claim him somehow? I would want him with this much lust and admiration and hope, forever, I swear it!

“I guess . . . I hoped maybe . . .”

He grasps my head with one hand, pulling me into his embrace. My heart pounds so hard I worry maybe he will feel it. Both my hands land on his chest.

I watch his mouth near, hear him inhale sharply, and it’s too much—I have to close my eyes. His lips press down hard, instantly nudging open mine. His tongue—oh. He tastes so pure. His free arm roams down from my waist to my hips tugging me tight to him, and the humming centralizes down in my lower half. If I move just a bit to the right I would . . . I gasp, and he holds me tighter, repositioning our heads. I’ve been kissed a few times before, but never like this.

He leans back, his hand firmly twined in my hair.

“No . . .” I mumble, just before I regain my senses.

When I open my eyes, he reveals a flash of pride at my entreaty for him not to stop, and then he smiles tenderly. He holds my face in his hands and leans forward until our foreheads touch.
Wow. I would have done anything for him, in that moment.

“We have to leave now,” he says hoarsely.

Anxiety courses through me. I step back a bit.

“King,” I say, feeling like a child. “King,” I restart, sounding firmer. “I . . . I want to be with you. Really, I do,” I admit, feeling my cheeks flush. “But, I can’t just run away, at least not the way you are proposing.”
Did I really just say that?

He releases my face and steps back. His face changes again. Adrenaline spikes, and I squeeze my hands together briefly, in order to calm myself. I did not realize he was so tempestuous.

“I . . . I can’t back out now,” I rationalize. “I agreed to do this.”
Sound firm.
My senses are returning and the more I think about it the more I realize how unreal his proposition is.

“Besides, I can’t let you ruin your career.”

Truthfully? Also, being on the run is not how I planned my fairytale ending with him. Most importantly, how could I ever help Daz in that situation?

As this realization decides it for me, King’s brows form a flat line of determination, and he raises himself taller, high above me, over me.

“Listen, King, I . . . I can do this. I want to do this.”

He’s just staring at me. Why is he acting like this? Maybe his feelings are hurt?