Authors: Cyndi Friberg
All Ensley saw of the Rodyte ship was the inside of an airlock before she was escorted down an arched corridor. When every crewman they passed averted his gaze, Ensley’s pulse leapt. What would it be like to command such power? No one so much as sneaked a glance at her.
The corridor was clean, as were the guards. Dark blue uniforms accented their heavily muscled bodies. For barbarians these men seemed suspiciously civilized. They paused before a wide doorway. One of the guards stepped forward and pressed his hand to a smooth panel. A seam appeared in the door, and the halves disappeared into the walls.
Ensley swallowed and lowered her gaze, allowing the guards to guide her steps. The floor gleamed like polished stone, yet she detected a subtle give in the surface. They led her toward a large piece of furniture, a desk or a table.
Cyrus had advised her to kneel, but her research indicated Pern would perceive the gesture as a show of weakness. Eye contact, on the other hand, had to be invited.
“A woman.” He chuckled. “I won’t pretend I’m not surprised. Are you the true leader of this insurrection?”
His deep commanding voice sent shivers down her spine. “Your agreement with the overlord puts me at your disposal.”
“That didn’t answer the question. Look at me.”
She gradually raised her gaze, tension escalating with each centimeter her eyes traveled. An austere room surrounded her, the walls unadorned. Pern sat behind a desk constructed of the same gray-green alloy as the walls. Only the muted colors marbled through the floor broke the monotony.
Her gaze settled on the man behind the desk, and Ensley’s nipples hardened against the support cups built into her blouse. At first glance his hair appeared black, yet any movement of his head revealed its true midnight-blue color. The top had been left longer than the sides, a gleaming lock resting on his broad forehead. Sharp cheekbones and a straight, narrow nose drew her attention to his thin-lipped mouth. Pern wasn’t handsome by anyone’s standards, but power emanated from him.
Pushing back from his desk, he stood and moved toward her, his stride smooth, almost graceful. “There is a flaw in the design. Did you insert it intentionally?”
“Yes, sir.” She glanced into his eyes, and her mouth went dry. The pattern was similar to the inhabitants of Earth, though the whites of his eyes had a blue tinge. A vivid blue ring separated his black irises from his equally black pupils. She’d grown accustomed to the gently swirling eyes of Ontarians. His sharp, assessing gaze reminded her of Dr. Hydran. “I’m safe so long as I’m valuable. I wanted to ensure —”
“You are here at my request. Do you doubt my ability to keep you safe?”
“Of course not.”
“Your lust turned to disdain when you looked into my eyes. Explain your reaction.”
Damn, he was perceptive. Squaring her shoulders, she spoke in a cool, even tone. “I’m attracted to powerful men, but your eyes remind me of someone unpleasant.”
“Then don’t look into my eyes.” He smiled, and the blue ring encircling his pupils began to glow. “When I rut between your thighs, I’ll take you from behind, so nothing will distract you.”
She inclined her head, needing a moment to compose her expression. “I’m anxious to begin work on the prototype, but I suppose a short delay won’t matter.” He chuckled, and the tension gripping her belly eased. Slowly raising her face, she forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Do I frighten you?”
“I’m entirely at your mercy. Only a fool would not be frightened.”
“Honesty, how refreshing.” Leaning against his desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. “Who do you see when you look into my eyes?”
How much had Cyrus told him? It would be difficult to explain her motivations to a man ruled by honor. Her choice had been servitude or treachery. Could she hope to make him understand? “A man I would rather forget.”
His eyebrows arched. “Another evasion. I’m disappointed.”
“What do you know about Operation Hydra?” An identity scanner had passed over her face as she boarded the shuttle. Even now he was likely researching her background.
“You are one of the refugees?” She didn’t miss the note of astonishment in his tone. She nodded, and his eyes narrowed. “Why would the overlord trust a Mystic?”
“Cyrus doesn’t trust me, he needs me. There’s a significant difference.”
He lunged, moving so fast his body blurred. They collided, knocking her back a step, before his long fingers tangled in her hair. “You know what he intends to do; what I intend to help him do. Why would you offer your assistance to the enemy?”
“I was considered a traitor long before I was brought to Ontariese. The reasons for what I did have only solidified since my arrival. Things are no different on this side of the portal than they were back on Earth. If anything, they’re worse.”
“I have no tolerance for traitors. Explain quickly, while I’m still willing to listen.” Energy arced between them. Her skin tingled, and her vision blurred. She yelped, tugging against his hold. He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening in her hair. “What did you just do?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.
“I don’t know.” She gasped. “It wasn’t intentional.”
He panted, his warm breath wafting against her face. “Sever the link!”
“I’m not doing anything.”
His eyes opened, and she cried out. The rings were gone, replaced by a solid field of black. “Gema?” The plaintive question held her spellbound. Not just his tone, the actual timbre of his voice changed, deepened with an odd reverberation.
“Sir —” She squeezed his wrist. “— you’re hurting me.”
Blue fire burned through the black, and his eyes returned to normal. “I’m waiting for your explanation.” She stared at him in confusion. Wasn’t he aware of … What the hell just happened? “Do not try my patience.”
“My mother was a Mystic.” Her voice squeaked as she began. “My father was a brilliant scientist. No one gives a damn about my father. Few remember his name. I inherited his aptitudes and intelligence, and all it qualified me to do was exploit the other occupants. Because I am not a powerful Mystic, I had no value there or here.”
His hold eased, while his fingers remained in her hair. “Does your lover realize you have Mystic abilities?”
“Cyrus is not my lover.” Stunned by his bizarre behavior, she wasn’t sure if she should mention it or not. Who or what was Gema?
“That wasn’t the question.”
She licked her lips, her pulse racing. What should she do? How would she even broach the issue?
“Have you forgotten what I asked?” He leaned closer. “Would you prefer a different subject? I can turn you around, bend you over my desk, and rekindle the lust in your eyes.”
“My Mystic abilities are negligible. I’m my father’s daughter. Surely the Crown Stirate of Rodymia has the most beautiful women imaginable waiting to appease his desire. I’m here to build a prototype of my design.”
“Every person under my rule is expected to make themselves available to me in any way I choose. For the time being, you are under my rule.”
“I understand. How may I best serve you?”
He pushed her away. “The prototype is my top priority.” She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed as he returned to the chair behind his desk. “Did Cyrus locate the D-class runaway?”
“He believes he knows where she is, but I wasn’t comfortable with his progress. My people have been dispatched. They have more experience with D-class personnel than the overlord’s soldiers.”
“What were your orders?”
“They are to recover her intact, if possible. If not, she will be destroyed. If the prototype is successful, D-159 will be obsolete.”
He accepted the information with a stiff nod. “The facilities aboard ship should be adequate for the duration of our journey. Once we reach the compound, I can get you anything you need.”
“Who identified the flaw in my design?”
“My munitions engineer.” He activated the screen inset in his desk, his expression distant and cold. “He is waiting for you in the laboratory. The guards will show you the way.”
* * * * *
After loading Saebin’s body armor into his shuttle’s forward chute, Lyrik headed for the heart of Frontine. They had decided on a location for the transfer before Lyrik returned to the shuttle lot. Even scrambled transmissions posed a risk, so they planned out every step ahead of time.
Shuttles merged into the magnetic current, which flowed in either direction directly above the commuter trams. The current swept the shuttles along at uniform intervals. Dro Tar merged into the stream directly in front of him.
“Right on schedule,” he muttered. “Maybe Trey isn’t crazy after all.” He’d never understood Trey’s willingness to put up with Dro Tar’s eccentricities, but her efficiency was undeniable.
Her shuttle’s emergency hatch slid open without the customary alarm. She’d apparently disabled the sensor as he’d directed. Flipping down his weapons’ control panel, he readied the forward chute. He only had one shot at this. The launch had to be clean enough not to draw attention to the transfer. Taking careful aim, he activated the chute.
A subtle blur of red spanned the distance between their shuttles, and Dro Tar closed the emergency hatch. “That was almost too easy.” They maintained position for several blocks, then Dro Tar banked onto a side street. Lyrik followed the tram to the end of the main line and found a large, mostly empty lot in which to set down. He relaxed for a moment, clearing his head and anticipating his father’s reaction. This could get ugly.
He heaved a ragged sigh and rubbed his bruised jaw. Dro Tar had been a little too willing to punch him twice before he felt sufficiently abused. Saebin, on the other hand, had to be coaxed into using her knuckle conduit. A superficial burn marred his shoulder, the charred uniform top adding the perfect touch. Odd that he’d had to coerce the “ruthless assassin” into using her weapon. Saebin was a baffling combination of ferocity and vulnerability. He wanted to protect her, shelter her from the forces that conspired against her. How could he feel so strongly about someone he barely knew?
Using his private security code to activate an audio comlink, Lyrik paged the overlord.
Despite the audio page, Cyrus came on screen, his gaze narrowed and wary. “What the hell are you doing in Frontine?”
“There’s been a complication.”
“A complication?” His tone snapped with sarcasm and impatience. “Where is D-159?”
“I don’t know. My shuttle only has rudimentary scanners, nothing capable of —”
“Give me a full report, now!”
Lyrik straightened his back and released all emotion from his expression. “I located my target in Firestone Valley. She had been rendered unconscious by flying debris. I took her to a storm shelter and tended her wound.”
“How badly was she injured?”
The subtle disbelief in his father’s tone made Lyrik hesitate. Did his father know Saebin’s implants could expedite healing? Of course he knew. Saebin had been brought in and out of stasis since her arrival on Ontariese. Only the gods of the Day Moon knew what they had done to her.
Focus! Do not let him realize how much you care for her
. The thought sent a jolt of shock through Lyrik’s mind.
Care for her?
He shoved the disquieting possibility to the back of his mind and met his father’s gaze.
“She had a small gash on her forehead. I sealed it while she was unconscious, and that was that.” He tried to keep his tone casual, but anger simmered just below the surface, compromising his efforts.
“Continue. Did her body armor protect her from the dust? What about her face and hands?”
Lyrik flashed a superficial smile. “I tried to talk her out of the suit, but she wasn’t having any of it. She washed her exposed skin without removing the armor. You told me the suit couldn’t be removed, and what I saw confirms it. It must be integrated in ways I don’t want to think about.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” Cyrus muttered, glancing away from the comscreen. “Is she still in the shelter? What are you doing in Frontine?”
“Give me a little credit.” Lyrik didn’t have to fake the affront in his voice. “She just sort of sat there until the miners showed up. Then she launched into defense mode. Once the computer authenticated their identities —”
“Cut to the chase.”
“I thought she went to sleep, but she was meticulously dismantling my mental shield. By the time the storm settled down, she took control of me.”
“How is that possible? You’re immune to all things Mystic.”
Lyrik snorted. “Apparently not. When she blasted my hand, it stung like hell. I must be resistant, not immune.”
“You’re dancing around the issue.”
“No, I’m not.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “You asked for a detailed report. I can’t tell you where she is, because I don’t know. She demanded that I take her to the planet. I refused. She kept repeating the demand until I felt an overwhelming compulsion to obey. I fought it all the way, sir, but I’ve never encountered anything like it.”
Cyrus stroked his beard, his lips thinned as he scowled at Lyrik. “Where did you take her? How did she know where she wanted to go? None of this makes sense. Those occupants who haven’t left are scattered all over the face of Ontariese, and most of them are terrified of anyone associated with ward D.”
“I’m not sure she knew where she was going. Her eyes kept flashing. I think she was scanning for someone, probably another refugee. She put on a uniform over her armor and told me to let her out.”
“And you felt compelled to obey.” Sarcasm dripped off every word.
“Yes, sir.” Lyrik paused, softening his tone. “Did you know she was capable of mind control?”
“I didn’t think it would work on you.” Cyrus shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Transmit the current locations of all the refugees still on Ontariese.” He carefully relaxed his expression, not wanting to appear too eager. “I need to know what I’m up against here.”
“D-159 is a trained assassin. You can’t lose sight of that.”
It was a damn good thing they weren’t in the same room. Lyrik would have had his hands wrapped around the overlord’s neck by now.
What are you up to, old man? How dare you compromise the safety and honor of our planet with these deceptions?