Space Wrangler (6 page)

Rick stared, completely stunned by the message he was receiving. Alexia didn't need anyone to walk her home because she wasn't
going
home. She was spending the night with TJ.

Big fucking surprise
.

“Perfect,” he muttered, buckling his gun belt, then donning the buckskin coat. “Just so you know, I'm leaving at eight a.m. If you're there, we'll go down to Destry and check out the Titans. If you don't show, I'll head straight to Sector Fourteen. Got it?” Before either of them could respond, he crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Storming out would have felt great, but unfinished business hung in the air, so he told TJ bluntly, “
Don't
let her walk home alone.”

Then for added insurance, he gave him a measured stare. It only lasted a moment, and hopefully wasn't noticeable to Alexia. But any
guy
would get it, and get it good. Rick had taken a personal interest in this female's safety, and would hold TJ accountable if anything happened to her.

Once TJ's face had dutifully registered the message, Rick turned and walked out the door without actually saying good-bye to either of them.

And he didn't feel one bit guilty about it. They were imposing on his good nature—on the last vestiges of his Earth-based sensibilities—and he hated that kind of shit. Now he had a million things to do. Drag the extra anti-compression tube out of storage and test it for leaks, find a decontamination suit that would fit a small, obnoxious woman, find gloves that would protect her slender, graceful fingers…

All of which paled in comparison to the things he
couldn't
do—namely, get laid. He would have to put that off until after the Titan viewing. Which was unbelievably ironic, since Alexia had been the one to get him so wound up with her naked breasts and killer shoulders, and now he'd have to wait a full day to remedy the effect.

Just effing perfect
.

Alexia stared after the wrangler, charmed by his show of concern even though she knew better than to take it personally.

The guy had had enough of death. Loved ones, comrades, associates—all dying in hideous ways, with him helpless to prevent it, despite his powerful build and charisma. He wasn't going to let it happen again on his watch.

Should she let him off the hook? Run after him and cancel the trip to the surface? She could hire a different pilot, couldn't she?

But if you're attacked by thugs and die a fiery death, the cowboy will still blame himself
.

She had a feeling he wouldn't let her cancel the trip anyway. He'd grumble and scowl, but unless she promised to stay away from Destry completely, he would insist on being her pilot.

Without turning her gaze away from the door, she told TJ softly, “That was odd, wasn't it?”

“Should I be jealous?”

“What?” She turned, honestly surprised by the question. “Be serious. That cowboy doesn't have anything I need.”

“In other words, he doesn't have a sentient computer.”

“I was referring to the lack of shared history, actually. Or love for my brother.” She bit her lip, struggling for the right words. “Rick's a stranger, TJ. Compared to you, he's no one.”

He studied her for a long moment, then rested his hands on her shoulders. “Any chance you're spending the night?”

“Tonight? No. But tomorrow…” She tried for an encouraging smile, but it all felt so strange. After years of fantasizing about this, it was finally happening. He was standing right in front of her. Same adorable face, same broad shoulders, same blue eyes.

But he had betrayed her. Worse, he had betrayed Trent. So her hesitation made perfect sense. She could regain those old, erotic, romantic feelings with him, but it would take time. And in the meantime, she could pretend to be her old self—just a bit—if it meant getting access to the sentient computer.

When he stepped closer and teased her lips with his own, she responded, but didn't encourage him too much. Instead, after a few seconds, she pulled free and repeated, “Tomorrow night, okay? I'm exhausted from my wild ride through the sinkhole.”

“I thought you slept like a baby.”

“On the way to the transit point, sure. But when they were strapping me into the capsule, all I could think was—well, was I going to make it? Was I going to see Trent? Were
you
going to be mad at me?” With a wistful sigh, she added, “Seven seconds that felt like an instant, and then I was on D-side. It's still such a miracle, isn't it?”

He pulled her close again, but this time, in a gesture of protection. “If I had lost you in that fucking sinkhole, it would have destroyed me.”

She wanted to pull free. To remind him haughtily that he had taken Trent's disappearance in stride, so why not hers? But that wasn't fair. Plus, it would be counterproductive. So she forced herself to relax against his chest and it felt surprisingly good. Despite the betrayal, she had honestly missed him, and bit by bit, her resentment was melting away.

Without warning he tilted her face up and kissed her again, this time with unexpected ferocity. “I want you to spend the night.”

“You promised the cowboy you'd walk me home like a gentleman.”

“Fuck him,” TJ growled. “Bringing blast pistols into Sea-Mont headquarters? Into
my
home? He's lucky I didn't have him arrested.”

“Hey!” She stepped back, confused by his contorted expression. “What's going on with you?”

“I don't like being played. Not by him, and definitely not by you.”

“Wow.” She touched his cheek. “I don't think I've ever seen you angry before. I mean,
really
angry. It's just so unlike you.”

“Maybe I've changed.”

She ignored the biting tone. “You're the sweetest guy I know. Don't bother arguing about it.”

A glimmer of the old TJ—the one who just couldn't stay mad at anyone—sparked in his eyes. “Thanks, Lexie. Sorry I lost my temper.”

“Like you said, it's been a rough few years.” She bit her lip. “Have you been happy at all? Any girlfriends along the way? I promise I won't get jealous.”

“Sure,” he murmured. “There've been a couple. No keepers, but they were good company.”

“I'm not talking about
bio-girls
, idiot.”

He laughed. “Me either. I had a semi-serious relationship back on Earth, but she wasn't willing to risk her life in the sinkhole. And then there was another one. She was almost
too
willing. Beautiful but no challenge. She came here with me, but things fizzled out.” Before Alexia could respond, he reminded her, “You've had a string of lovers yourself, right? Art McKay—”

“I told you, your father butted in before Art got me access to NASA. Thus Art never got access to
me
.”

“What about George Rendem-Sayers? That was a coup, right? And Lorenzo Nolo? And that Barbary freak?”

Her stomach clenched at the bizarre intrusion into her sex life. “You had me followed? All this time?”

“You threatened to bring Sea-Mont to its knees. To destroy Dad personally and professionally. So yeah, we kept an eye on you.”

She grimaced, acknowledging the fair point. Still, it seemed so creepy. So
un
-TJ.

But apparently he really had changed, because he added in a cool tone, “Your father and brother must have been rolling in their graves, seeing you slut yourself out like that.”

“There's that mean streak again,” she accused sadly. “But you're right about one thing. I
have
been playing you, just a little. Not because I don't care. I just need to work my way back to you. You sided with your father when I needed you most, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't resent it. But I
wasn't
lying when I said we would end up together. Dad wanted it. Trent wanted it. And you and I have both wanted it off and on forever. We just need to get back into sync.”

His gaze warmed. “If it's really just resentment, and you're willing to recapture what we had—not just as lovers, but as family too—that's good enough for me.”

“So? Will you walk me home? I really am beat.”

“Sure.” Crossing back to the dining table to fetch her jacket, he added smugly, “You're off the hook for tonight. But tomorrow, we pick up where we left off the night of Trent's party. Right?”

Her heart sank at the calculating—almost threatening—statement. She couldn't blame him for being suspicious of her motives, but she had counted on him to coax her back into love by being his old self.

She didn't know this new TJ, and wasn't sure she could trust him. Except, of course, beneath this jaded exterior, he was still the same guy, buried under an avalanche of guilt, hurt feelings and abandonment.

She needed to rescue Trent first and foremost, but maybe in the process she could save TJ. If sleeping with him could provide access to the Sea-Mont Prototype
and
neutralize David Seaton's monstrous influence, well then—

Maybe things really can go back to how they were.

Chapter Five

Rick studied the control room of the
Drifter
, acknowledging he should have used a more flexible design so it could accommodate all the furniture and equipment that now crowded it, namely an extra anti-compression tube, a small round conference table that was usually stowed below deck, and a gray leather guest chair that was similar to, but a bit smaller than, his own black one.

He had planned this vessel for a party of one. Visitors hadn't been an option, and while he might occasionally need to rescue or transport someone, he had never anticipated a social element to it, and had definitely never considered that a Montoya would come aboard.

“It is such an honor,” Sensie said for the tenth time that morning. “I only wish we had more notice so we could provide true hospitality. Our selection of tea is abysmal, and I'm sure she's never had powdered food before.”

“We're not running a restaurant, we're running a shuttle service,” Rick grumbled. “Let's hope she's smart enough to eat something at the cafeteria. Or breakfast in bed with TJ.”

“I'm still surprised Mr. Seaton isn't coming with us. Although I am selfishly pleased we will have Alexia to ourselves.”

Rick ignored the sentimental tone. “Any sign of her yet?”

“Yes, she is coming into view. And she has an escort, although it is not Mr. Seaton. Shall I open the entry door?”

“Yeah, the sooner we get going the better,” he said, then he laughed at himself for trying to sound blasé. The truth was, he admired Alexia as much as Sensie did, and showing her the Titans would be fun.

Assuming nothing went wrong.

When the door slid open with a brisk swoosh, he braced himself for a sexy, whipped-cream-covered body. But she presented herself as a normal girl again in jeans, black tennis shoes and a black T-shirt. The copper streaks in her hair—and the playful sparkle in her eyes—were the only non-utilitarian features to today's look.

“Hi, Alexia. Welcome aboard.”

She walked to the center of the control room and turned slowly, taking in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. “This ship is amazing. When TJ told me it shimmers, I didn't know what he meant, but it's fantastic. And
you
look good too,” she added with a mischievous smile.

Damn, she's gonna flirt.

She gestured to herself. “I hope jeans are okay?”

“They're fine. You'll be taking them off anyway.”

“Oh really?”

“To change into bio-hazard gear,” he explained. “Because of the poison on Destry. There's a changing area in the shower room, and a locker for your stuff.”

“Sounds good.” She walked to the curved wall of the compartment and stroked it. “Are the Titans this shade of blue too?”

“They have a lot of bio-metal, but mixed with other alloys, not just titanium. So they look grayer.”

“I see.” Her fingers slid over the wall again. “It's extravagant, isn't it? I mean, I understand using bio-metal for equipment, but for a structure? How rich
are
you, cowboy?”

He chuckled. “My family never really had money, but we had lots of land. I sold most of it and invested in bio-metal. The
Drifter
was the best place to store it.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment, then approached the control panel. “And this is the famous Sensie?”

“She's been dying to meet you. Right, Sensie?”

The computer spoke in a flat, mechanical voice. “I thought she'd be taller.”

“Huh?” He winced in Alexia's direction. “Sorry, that was weird.”

“It's fine,” she murmured.

“Your mother was tall,” Sensie continued. “I thought you would be as well.”

“Hey, drop it,” Rick insisted, adding in a sheepish tone, “Sorry, Alexia. It's nothing personal.”

“Really? Because it
sounded
personal.” She sent a playful glare in the monitor's direction. “But what can you expect from a
semi
-sentient? I hope you didn't overpay for her, Rick. The programmer clearly took some shortcuts.”

Sensie shot back immediately. “You really shouldn't malign your own brother that way, Ms. Montoya.”

“Sensie…” Rick began.

But Alexia waved his objections away, her eyes now blazing with annoyance. “If Trent Montoya had created you, you'd be perfect. Just because some loser tried to clone one of his prototypes and failed—
miserably
—doesn't make Trent
responsible for your glitchy performance.”

“I am not a clone.”

Rick erupted in disbelief. “
Sensie!
”

The computer continued icily. “Your brother created four prototypes. I am one of them. And I am
not
glitchy.”

“Sensie,
stop
talking
. That's an order.” Rick turned to Alexia, who was staring at him in complete confusion. He knew he should just lie, right there on the spot. Tell her Sensie was indeed a glitchy, semi-sentient clone with delusions of grandeur.

But he couldn't. So he said simply, “We need to get underway or we won't have enough light for the Titans. Sensie, take us out of dock. Use the course I charted this morning. And
don't
say another word.”

Gesturing toward the guest chair, he told Alexia, “You should strap in for this. It's usually smooth, but I don't want you losing your balance.”

“My balance is fine.”

“Well, let's sit anyway, okay? We need to chat.”

Alexia waited as the wrangler procured two cups of coffee from a chrome-plated dispenser in the command center wall. He was obviously stalling, and while she couldn't wait to hear his explanation for the computer's bizarre claim, she too needed a few seconds to pre-think this “chat”. For one thing, Rick Gage looked amazingly good in his dark-blue, one-piece flight suit, so she might be susceptible to lies or manipulations in a way she wouldn't otherwise be.

Then there was the plausibility of Sensie's crazy diatribe, because as unlikely as it seemed, there really was a basis in fact for a third sentient computer.

Trent had indeed built four prototypes. Sadly, the first beta test proved a complete disaster. Prototype #1 crashed irreparably the instant they tried to boot it up, frying every circuit in the process.

Prototype #2 had booted just fine, showing marginal promise, but had been so riddled with problems, the company decided to scrap it, especially after #3 and #4 succeeded. The whole point of the exercise was to produce a single sentient, so doubling that was beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

Alexia had been so proud. So frustrated. So anxious to find her brother so he could bask in the glow of the world's adoration again. When the decision was made—by David Seaton—to lease Prototype #3 to NASA and to install #4 at Sea-Mont's fledgling D-side space platform, Alexia hadn't even considered balking. TJ had promised to devote #4 to the search for Trent, and she had had no reason to doubt that commitment.

Not until eighteen months later, when TJ and David went to court, had Trent declared dead and broke her heart to pieces.

Now, as Rick Gage set the mugs of steaming coffee on the table, then took his place in a fancy black chair across from her, she forced herself to consider two very odd possibilities. Either Rick had fed false information to his glitchy little clone…

Or Prototype #2 was alive and well.

Rick cleared his throat. “This is a delicate subject, Alexia.”

“Did you lie to your clone? Tell her she's fully sentient out of some—well, some crazy desire to make her happy? She's your traveling companion—”

“She's Prototype Number Two.”

An unexpected sting of tears made Alexia wipe at her eyes before insisting stubbornly, “Number Two was scrapped.”

“True.” He reached across to cover her hand with his own. “They disassembled her and parted her out. When I heard about it, I was just finalizing my concept for the
Drifter
. I needed the best computer money could buy, so I took a gamble that even with the glitches, she was better than any clone I could build, even if I slavishly followed your brother's blueprints. And—” he exhaled sharply, “—in case you're wondering, she
is
fully sentient.”

It didn't make sense, so Alexia just stared at him, willing him to either provide some sort of proof or take it all back. The sooner the better.

“I rounded up the parts—about ninety-five percent of them, which was a miracle in itself. The main chip was intact, and even though the nascent memory boards had been wiped, they'd done a slipshod job because nothing of importance had been loaded yet. So that was a break. But none of it would have mattered if I hadn't recovered a couple of main relays. They were as important as the chip, actually.”

“The relays?”

He nodded. “Pure genius on your brother's part. I never could have figured out how to build them from a schematic. No cloner could. But with the actual examples in front of me, I managed to duplicate them, and once a pattern emerged, I got the primary systems working. Then Sensie came alive and helped me figure out the rest.” He paused for a deep breath. “I couldn't have done it without her. I spent almost a full year studying and dismantling other clones, but things didn't really start flowing until she kicked in and helped. Reluctantly at first, since she didn't trust my motives. But she's so damned smart, and had such a strong desire to exist, she dragged me along for the ride.”

“It's so cool,” Alexia whispered. “
She's
so cool. Can I talk to her again? Please?”

He flashed a lopsided grin. “I'm surprised you even want to, after the way she insulted you. That's a mystery, by the way. She's been hero-worshipping you like crazy, then she calls you short?”

“Well, I
am
short. And I called her a clone, so we're even.”

“You're not really that short,” he said warily. “More like average, right? Five five? Five six?”

“Five six and a quarter. Don't shortchange me, cowboy.”

He laughed ruefully. “Never.”

“So? Can I talk to her?”

“Fine. Hey, Sensie? Alexia has some questions for you. Be polite.”

Alexia's heart began to pound. “Sensie?”

“I am here.”

“Wow.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, well, first I want to apologize. You're not a clone, you're fully sentient. It's a miracle.”

“I accept your apology. What is your question?”

“Can you get me access to TJ's sentient? It's Prototype Number Four. If you could hack in—”

“Hey!” Rick shook his head. “That's illegal.”

“But theoretically—”

“I cannot,” Sensie interrupted, her tone warming. “I have tried many times—”

“You
what
?” Rick rocked back in his seat, his expression dazed. “No one's hacking anything. Especially not Sea-Mont property.”

“Forty-five percent of that property is mine,” Alexia reminded him, adding mischievously, “We can just hack my part.”

His scowl didn't waver. “Do you have any other questions for her? We're gonna lose our light if we don't get going.”

“TJ said it's five hours each way using a hyper stream—”

“Four each way for the
Drifter
, since her stream generator is more powerful. But we can't use it until we're in the ACTs, so we can't just sit around. Unless you don't want to see the Titans anymore.”

“Okay, okay.” She pretended to glare. “What a grouch. And yes, I have another question. Sensie? Can you explain why you weren't able to hack the prototype?”

“Goddammit, Alexia.”

“Shhh. Sensie?”

“Sea-Mont uses fourteen separate computer systems on this side of the sinkhole. They form a complex network with the prototype at the hub, and random, variable interfaces that change hourly, based on an ever-shifting algorithm generated by the prototype itself. Even when some peripheral access is available to one or more of the other computers, they have no path to the core functions or data. There are only two entities—both of them human—who have that sort of access. One is David Seaton. The other is his son.”

“Okay.” Alexia rubbed her eyes. “You can't hack the prototype, but what about the other thirteen computers? If you could hack all of them simultaneously, and then generate your own algorithm based on
your
core programming—”

“You are talking nonsense,” Sensie told her with an audible snort.

Rick chuckled. “It's hopeless, Alexia. And did I mention illegal?” He patted her hand again. “TJ's your best chance. He's crazy about you, and his old man is on the other side of the sinkhole. So just—”

“Use my feminine wiles?” She rolled her eyes. “I'm miles ahead of you. But if there's another way, I'd rather not take advantage of him. Even though it's the story of my sex life so far.”

“Huh?”

She smiled at his startled expression. “I'm not a genius like my brother, so I work with what I've got. Which means sleeping with geeks in exchange for information. I'm not proud of it though, and doing it to TJ just feels worse. He and I have a history. A romantic one.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that.”

She felt her cheeks redden. “Oh God, what did he say?”

“I'd rather not go into it. You need to suit up—”

“Wait! One more question, please?”

“For me or for Sensie?”

“Sensie.”

“Go ahead.”

She cleared her throat. “If my brother survived the sinkhole, where's the most likely place to find him? Inside the rip itself? Or did it divert him to another place in our universe? Or is he in a parallel universe? I have six active theories, but I'm dying to know what
you
think.”