Space Wrangler (2 page)

“Depends on the day,” he quipped. Then his tone softened. “What were you thinking, Lex? Dad's goons might have shot you if Rick and me hadn't shown up. Why take the risk? All you had to do was contact me—ask for a pass—and I would have moved heaven and earth to get it for you. Why sneak through illegally? Why give Dad that kind of power?”

“Why would I beg for a pass? I might not own half the company anymore, but I own a huge piece of it, and I'm entitled to visit any time I want.”

“I agree. Just don't get shot in the process.”

“Always the diplomat, right?” She smiled fondly. “Aren't you tempted to stand back and let your dad and me duke it out?”

“If I thought
you'd
win…” His blue eyes twinkled. “Are you really here to seduce me? Because I've been waiting years—”

“Be quiet.” She touched his lips. “I've been waiting too. For an apology. Meanwhile…” She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her nervousness. “I've been so lonely. I needed you, but you pushed me away. Then
I
pushed
you
away. Then the courts made it worse. But I never stopped needing you.”

“Fuck.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Why did you wait so long?”

“Why did
you
have my brother declared dead?” she retorted. Then she remembered her mission. She
had
to find Trent. Time was running out, and her last remaining hope was to access the magnificent computer that was known as the Sea-Mont Prototype and was housed on this platform. Along with the NASA Prototype, which had also been designed by Trent, it was one of only two sentient computers on Earth
or
Destry. “I know you loved him, TJ. Almost as much as I do. I'll never understand why you gave up on him so easily, but if you help me now, I'll forgive you the rest.”

“
You'll
forgive
me
?” TJ burst into harsh laughter. “After you sued me, and trashed me, and traveled the globe accusing me of being a criminal?”

“TJ—”

“We've got a lot to talk about. But first—” his tone grew brisk, “—don't you want to see the space platform? You came all this way. Risked your life in more ways than one. So why waste it?” When she just stared, he adopted a more loving tone. “We'll work it out, I promise. I'm just so goddamned glad to see you, I'm putty in your hands. Even though we both know
putty
is the opposite of the truth.”

Chapter Two

Despite TJ's bluster, Alexia felt safe and validated by his presence. She had never really blamed him for all the heartache, knowing his father was the evil force behind it. TJ's failure to intercede reflected badly on him, but David had been such a malevolent, domineering patriarch, she couldn't really judge the son for buckling under.

And so she allowed him to give her a tour of the space platform that her brother had designed for a bold new world. The world her father had discovered. It grated on her to see how the Seatons now reaped the benefits, but in the end, all that mattered was finding Trent. Her father had accepted David Seaton as his financier, hadn't he? Roberto Montoya's ideas—his brains, his heart, his soul—in exchange for David Seaton's money. Fifty-fifty, profit-wise and glory-wise.

Who was Alexia to second-guess the arrangement? Better to exploit it for a noble cause.

Dad would be so proud of all this
, she decided as she surveyed the domed radiation shield of transparent T-glass that encompassed the space station, creating and maintaining an artificial atmosphere that protected and nourished the inhabitants. The platform was less than a mile in diameter, but functioned like a full-fledged city, with the five-story Sea-Mont building rising in the center like a miniature skyscraper. Farther out were rings of three-story structures that provided a studio apartment for each and every D-side worker. Around the outermost edge were the space docks, where shuttles and ships berthed.

All of this was perched on nothingness—not even a cloud. Yet somehow, it existed—a floating world with stable gravity, eerily natural lighting and breathable air—just fifteen-thousand miles from the sinkhole and forty-thousand miles above the planet Destry.

All thanks to Trent.

And to be fair, TJ had played a role too, ensuring that Trent's designs became reality after he disappeared. So she took a moment to appreciate him, using Captain Rick Gage as a point of comparison.

The cowboy projected power and confidence, not just in his tall, lean build, but in his strong jaw and no-nonsense green eyes. Combine that with untamed masculinity in his shaggy brown hair and high cheekbones, and the results were definitely inspiring. But there was something else, wasn't there? Something off-putting. A distance that might as well have been a chasm. The guy would take a bullet for her—or
any
stranger—but a conversation? That apparently was a deal breaker.

In contrast, TJ's breezy self-assurance made him approachable—a corporate powerbroker with a reputation for fairness and compassion. He had manifested that wonderful aura the first time she met him, and she was pleased to see it was alive and well.

She had been twelve and impressionable that first time. A college football injury had driven him to recuperate at the nearby Montoya home, so he had moved in for a month. He and Trent, who was also in college, had become best friends, and twelve-year-old Alexia had fallen madly in love, not just because TJ was adorable, but because he single-handedly changed the dynamic at the dinner table that first night.

First and most importantly, he had played peacemaker between her warring parents so she could actually stomach her dinner for the first time in months. But he had done so much more, engaging with
every
one, as though there was nothing he'd rather be doing, nowhere he'd rather be sitting, bum leg and all. Compared to her father, who had to be dragged from his computer each evening, and her brother, who was constantly distracted by his latest brainstorm, TJ had made Alexia feel like a princess just by paying attention to her.

It had been the start of a one-sided love affair that lasted until she was almost nineteen, only to be derailed by a disastrous first date. She had no doubt it would have gotten back on track if Trent hadn't disappeared in the sinkhole. Or, at least, if TJ hadn't sided with his father against Alexia the very time she needed him most.

But you were meant to be together
, she reminded herself now.
So play nice.

Smiling, she told him, “The weather here feels so real. Like a beautiful spring day back home in Los Altos.”

“I'm glad you like it, because it's this way every day. Sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit, ten percent humidity, breeze circulating clockwise at four miles per hour.”

She scowled. “I thought you were supposed to mimic Earth's seasons. Are you saying it's exactly like this on Christmas day?”

He nodded. “Trent's original plan turned out to be too energy intensive. This is the cheapest, most comfortable solution. The only exception is the lighting, which does mimic Earth, at least by dimming in the evening and brightening back up at artificial dawn.”

“It's suffocating.”

He chuckled. “It's no different than a shopping mall or airplane.” His bravado resurfaced as he insisted, “It's an effing miracle, actually, the way we've made it so habitable.”

“Congratulations.”

He chuckled again as they walked along an ergonomically-cushioned faux-asphalt pathway lined with artificial grass toward an Old West-type structure next to Sea-Mont headquarters. “The Trading Post is the center of life here. The company furnishes most supplies for free, but if someone wants a fancier version of their clothes, or just wants to swap their belongings for credit, this is where it happens. They also have a real restaurant, even though folks can eat at the cafeteria for free. And there's a bar—alcohol in moderation is free. More importantly, the bio-girls are free. You know about them, don't you?”

Alexia pretended to scowl. “I love my brother, but the idea of furnishing prostitutes to the workers wasn't his finest hour.”

“Actually, our operation wouldn't function without those girls,” TJ corrected her. “Dad was against it too, at first, but he sees the wisdom now. There are just too many men, and too few women, to create a sustainable workforce without some—well, let's just call it,
outlet
.”

“Is it still ninety percent men?”

“Unfortunately, yes. And most of them are single. Obviously, we don't allow children through the sinkhole. And since our workers won't risk visiting Earth too often, married men are scarce, and married women even scarcer.”

“But most of your workers are down on Destry, not up here. So are there prostitutes on the planet too? Isn't that kind of dangerous?”

He took her arm and led her into the Trading Post. “Let me buy you a drink while I explain. Unless you're too tired—”

“I'm loving this,” she assured him.

“Are you?” His gaze warmed. “I never thought I'd see you here, much less see you enjoying it. It means a lot, Lex.”

“To me too,” she admitted as they settled at a small table toward the back of the bar. When a pretty red-headed waitress rushed over to serve them, Alexia asked her, “Do you have espresso drinks?”

“Of course, Ms. Montoya. I'm Jamie, by the way. It's such an honor to meet you.”

“You too, Jamie. And please call me Alexia.” She bit her lip, charmed by the young woman's easy-going manner, and even more intrigued by the pink dot visible on her neck just under her earlobe. Most women hid their contraception patches on the back of the neck, as close to the hairline as possible, so this seemed like a subtle but telling signal.

Apparently Jamie was a bio-girl as well as a waitress, and definitely comfortable with both roles. Or more likely she had forced herself to become comfortable. Wasn't that something she and Alexia had in common? Jamie had traded a certain amount of privacy for educational opportunities, or adventure, or financial security. Alexia had done the same, seducing geeky geniuses in exchange for help in solving the mysteries of the sinkhole that had swallowed her brother.

Trading sex for something infinitely more important. A fact of life for some women, and maybe for some men too.

Jamie seemed to sense Alexia was a kindred spirit, at least enough to say, “I don't mean to intrude, but you should know how much your visit means to us. If it wasn't for your family, I never would have had this opportunity—not just for the money, but for a full scholarship to Harvard. It's my dream come true. And—well, I'm
sooo
sorry about your brother.”

“Thanks,” Alexia murmured. “He'd be proud if he could see what you all have accomplished here.” Clearing her throat, she added, “I'd like to interview you while I'm here if that's okay.”

“Alexia…” TJ frowned. “That's inappropriate.”

“Oh Lord! Not about your profession,” Alexia told the girl immediately. “It's about the sinkhole. I collect data about those experiences.”

“It's
still
inappropriate,” TJ said sternly.

Alexia glared. “Fine, no interview. But if you could just answer three quick questions. First, how many times have you transited the sinkhole?”

“Just once,” Jamie replied. “When I go back to Earth, that will be the second time. And the last.” Turning to TJ, she added quickly, “Not that I don't love it here. I didn't mean that.”

“It's fine, Jamie. You're not being judged, I promise.”

Alexia studied their interaction ruefully. They had slept together. That was obvious. This woman worked for him but was also his mistress on occasion—all thanks to Trent's ludicrous concept of sexual harmony.

The idea of TJ having sex with so many different women didn't bother Alexia. She herself had had some bizarre liaisons these last few years, although oddly enough, the most bizarre of all was her single encounter with TJ himself. They hadn't even kissed, yet had definitely been intimate, physically speaking. Not her finest hour.

Nor his.

So no, she wasn't jealous. Just regretful that it had come to this. That they had drifted—or rather, been ripped—so far apart. Maybe they could fix that during this visit, assuming he was willing to defy his father.

“Okay, Jamie,” she said with an encouraging smile. “Can you tell me how long it took you to transit? Was it instantaneous?”

“They said it was nine seconds.”

“Really?” Alexia sat up straighter. Most transits took less than one second, and anything over five was considered significant.

And anything over
eighteen
was considered a death sentence.

So she continued briskly. “How did it feel?”

“Like it happened in an instant,” Jamie replied. “All I remember is being loaded into the capsule and launched, and then the next second, the crew on the D-side were opening the shield and helping me out of my harness.”

“I had the same experience,” Alexia confided to her. “Mine was seven seconds, but it felt like an instant.”

“Is that a good sign?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you've been collecting data. So if my first time seemed like an instant, does that mean my trip back home will be quick too?”

Oh no
…

Alexia didn't need to look at TJ's face to see the I-told-you-so on it.

“We've never found a correlation between one transit and another,” she assured the waitress. “It's completely random. But—” She grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You'll make it through fine. I'm
sure
of it. And if for some bizarre reason you don't, my brother will be there with you, helping you, until I figure out how to get everyone back.”

“
Lexie
,” TJ muttered. “That's enough. Jamie, just ignore her.”

“It's fine,” Jamie told him. Then she asked Alexia, “Do you really believe they're still alive?
All
of them?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” She smiled in relief. “I guess I should take your order, right?”

“I'll have a latte, thanks.”

When TJ ordered the same thing, rather than a shot of whiskey, Alexia felt a surge of relief. It was bad enough she had annoyed him. Why bring alcohol into the mix? Especially given what had happened the last time they drank together.

After the waitress left, he told her coolly, “No more interviews of my staff.” Before she could answer, he added, “We collect all the necessary data automatically, and I'm told you and your people get those reports.”

“You record the transit times, but not the mental impressions. I need to know what they remember from the experience.”

“They don't remember
anything
. They all say the same thing: that it felt like less than a second. Right?”

“So far, yes.”

“You're so stubborn,” he complained. “Thank God you're pretty.” Reaching across the table, he fingered her hair. “I like this new look.”

She knew he was referring to the copper streaks—part of her post-college, geek-attracting image. “Thanks.”

“You're not jealous about the bio-girls, are you?”

“Hardly.” She arched a cool eyebrow. “But it doesn't seem fair that you platform guys get all the fun. What about the men on the planet? Engineers and factory workers, right?”

“And guards, and medics, and the archaeology team. They rotate up here every five weeks for a full week of R and R. So they have plenty of access to the Trading Post and its privileges.”

“Well, that's good.” She glanced around to be sure no one could overhear, then asked, “Doesn't it bother them to be called bio-girls?”

“It's the name they chose for themselves. And let's face it, it's better than what Trent wanted to call them: Courtesy Dates.”

“Ugh, I forgot about that. Remind me to kick his ass when he gets back. After I hug him to death, of course.” She winced. “Still…bio-girls? It sounds so much like bio-metal.”

“And bio-metal is precious and rare. I'm told that was their thinking when they chose it.”

Alexia considered this bizarre tidbit, then decided it made perfect sense. “And are there bio-
boys
? For the females you lure to this hellhole?”