Authors: Cara Crescent
She shouldered her bag, slipped out of the car, and stared up at
Genesis V
. The ship was old and wore the battle scars of a decade’s worth of space flights. The ship stood almost fifty stories tall, yet only one floor of the craft was designated for passengers with purchased tickets. The rest of the ship would be filled to bursting with exiled humans.
Prudence wound her way through the crowd and purchased her ticket. She didn’t have enough for a private cabin, nor even for a semi-private cabin. The bulkhead was full and for long, heart-pounding moments, she didn’t think anything she could afford was available. Her hands started to sweat and she wiped her palms on her jeans.
The cashier turned back to her after checking the flight log. “I’ve got one pod left down in the barracks. You’ll have one roommate from what I hear, but no one else wanted the pod.”
“Why?”
He snorted, dragging his hand down his chubby face. “Can’t say why. I need to sell the ticket, lady.”
“Can you tell me if it’s safe?”
“The pod is in perfect working order. Now, do you want it or not?”
She wet her lips. What was she doing? She couldn’t afford to be picky. “I’ll take it.”
After she had her ticket grasped in her hand, she used the last of her money to purchase lunch and spent the afternoon sitting on the floor in the terminal, people-watching. Every time someone raised their voice, she jumped, thinking she’d been found out. But when 11:30 PM rolled around, they allowed paying passengers to board the ship. She went straight to her quarters, which turned out to be a room used to transport prisoners, and let herself in.
The whole room was white and stainless steel. Two pods were in the room and one sat in an upright position. There were no windows and only the one door.
She approached the horizontal pod. The life-links lay in a neat bundle to one side and she sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the Sisters of Charity for helping her research how they all worked. Down here in the barracks, there would be no stewardess to help her hook up.
The door opened so hard it hit the wall and bounced back, startling her. She stared wide-eyed as a man stumbled through, Blue Helmets on either side. He was bound at the hands and feet with shackles connected by a short chain, which severely restricted his mobility. Once inside, he stopped and glanced up.
Griffin Jude Payne.
She should have known. His sentencing had been this morning and Randolph wouldn’t have wanted him hanging around until the
Apollo
flight next week.
They must have permitted him a shower; droplets of water clung to his clipped, blond hair. And he didn’t wear prison garb. They’d supplied him camouflage cargo pants and a pea-green tee. It wouldn’t do for the general public to realize the U.N. shipped convicted felons to the same planet as the sick and the poor.
His eyes met hers and lit with recognition. Neither her short hair, nor the hurried black dye job appeared to have fooled him. She froze, waiting to find out if he would give her away.
The corners of his mouth went down, but he remained silent.
The two Blue Helmets muscled him over to the upright hibernation chamber. They didn’t need to use the kind of force they did. He didn’t struggle.
Until they tried to enclose him inside.
Chief Payne threw his shoulder against the door and head-butted one of the Blue Helmets. The man slumped to the ground.
The other soldier punched Chief Payne in the face. He reeled back with a grunt and the Blue Helmet slammed and sealed the door.
Prudence’s hand flew to her throat. “You’re leaving him in here? With me?”
“If you wanted a private cabin, you should have paid for one.” Out of breath, the Blue Helmet glanced at Prudence. The heat left his tone. “He can’t bother you, miss, he can’t reach the release with his hands cuffed. Not while he’s vertical.”
She gave him a shaky nod and as soon as he dragged his partner out, she locked the door behind them. Goddess help her if they brought her any more roommates.
She kept her gaze on the now occupied hibernation chamber as she edged toward hers. He should already be falling asleep, but he wasn’t. His intense sea-green stare followed her across the sterile silver-and-white room. Did they expect her to undress with him watching?
She turned her back to Chief Payne and removed her hat, scarf, and jacket, taking her time folding them. With a glance over her shoulder, she noted he was still awake. His patrician features were schooled into the stoic mask she’d grown to know so well through the holo-projector. She took off her shoes and socks, storing them in the compartment under her chamber. Waiting was risky. If she wasn’t locked into her chamber when they dropped life support, she could go under before securing all her life links.
A thud came from behind her and she spun around, her hand flying to her heart.
He hadn’t gotten free.
His forehead was planted on the glass. His lips moved, forming one word: Please.
Please what?
His gaze dropped as he stared at something in the chamber, before shooting back to hers. He repeated the action, trying to communicate with her. His expression searching, intense.
She approached his chamber, getting close enough to peer down into the pod. His life support links hung loose at his side. No wonder he’d fought the Blue Helmets. They’d planned to let him die in there.
His head hit the glass, drawing her attention. Again, he mouthed one word. Please.
Her heart slammed in her chest. He wanted her to open the chamber. What if he attacked her like he did the Blue Helmet? Despite being cuffed he’d proved to be dangerous. She’d witnessed him kill with no remorse. And the fact that he refused to speak at his trial didn’t exactly endorse his sanity.
But could she live with herself knowing she’d let him die?
She looked up into his sea-green eyes. “Don’t hurt me.”
A small smile curved the corner of his lips, softening his features. He shook his head.
She reached out and pulled down the emergency release on the side of the chamber. The air hissed as the air-lock opened. His lips parted and he sucked in a hard breath.
“You couldn’t breathe?” She stared at him in horror.
He shook his head.
The Blue Helmets hadn’t hooked him up to the life links or activated life support. That must have been three or four minutes. If she’d hesitated any longer . . . . “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She should have. She’d studied these chambers and how they worked in preparation for this trip. A mask delivered oxygen to the occupant of the air-tight chamber.
His chest heaved with each breath and she thought she heard him say, “’S’okay,” but wasn’t quite sure.
Before she lost her nerve, she reached into the pod and untangled the life support links. This wouldn’t be easy with him cuffed and clothed. The peripheral parenteral nutrition line would be easy enough to attach to his bare arm, so she did that first. She wrapped a band around his biceps, found his vein and slipped the needle in. “Is that okay?”
He nodded.
“No pinching? The vein doesn’t ache?”
He shook his head.
Why wouldn’t he talk? “I’ve got to put the electrode pads on you, or your muscles will atrophy.”
He nodded.
“Um, I’m gonna need to—”
His hand twisted around and he unbuttoned and unzipped his cammies. Her face flamed, but she knelt and pulled down his pants. She’d just escaped one man, and here she was, kneeling in front of another with his pants around his ankles. She forced herself to pay attention to what needed to be done, placing electro-pads on his calves. Huge bruises covered his muscular legs. “Who did this?”
One tawny brow lifted. The chains linking his cuffs and shackles jangled as he reached his hand toward her. The tip of his finger traced down her throat in a gentle caress that left her shivering. A foreign flutter settled into the pit of her belly—nothing unpleasant, just strange. She wet her lips as she stared into his eyes.
He stroked her throat again reminding her of her question.
She jerked her hand up to cover the dark stains circling her neck. With everything else, she’d forgotten the bruises Randolph had given her. In the grand scheme of last night, they seemed inconsequential. Randolph had done this to him, no doubt in an effort to make Chief Payne talk. And when he wouldn’t, Randolph had come to her. Well, soon they’d both be far out of Randolph’s reach.
She shook her head and got back to work. Each of the electrodes needed to be placed over major muscles. She attached them to his thighs and calves and then blushed all over when she needed to reach up the tight boxers he wore to attach them to the hard globes of his glutes.
When she stood, she pulled his pants up, careful not to snag any of the wires. But there was no way to re-button them. Not with the massive erection straining against his underwear. All the breath seemed to leave her lungs. “I, uh, think you’ll be more comfortable if I leave these loose.”
He didn’t look at her, but gave her a curt nod.
The electrodes that went on his arms were easy enough, but then she needed to lift his shirt to place those that went on his chest and abs. She stared at his dog tags, trying to ignore the wide expanse of smooth skin stretched over thick muscle. He hissed in a breath when she grazed a large bruise on his ribs. “I’m sorry. Almost done.” How could he even stand? He’d been badly beaten. Interesting the bruises were confined to areas his clothing covered—that reeked of true Parnell style.
She went back to work, sliding her hands under his shirt and reaching up to attach the remaining electrodes to his back. It almost felt like a hug, bringing her flush against the hard muscles of his chest. He had a pleasant scent; musky and male. His skin was warm and smooth. Her nipples tightened and she blushed.
Damn it, she didn’t like men. Especially not violent men. As soon as she finished, she stepped away. “Goodnight, Chief Payne.”
His gaze, laced with surprise, shot back to hers.
“Yes, I know who you are.” She hesitated, almost thanking him for trying. True, he didn’t succeed. He had made things worse, but he was the only person who’d ever tried to make things right. In the end, she placed her hand over his heart and smiled. “I’ll see you in six months.”
He gave her a clipped nod in response.
She slipped the clear plastic breathing mask over his face, activated life-support, pushed the door closed, and sealed him inside.
The ten-minute alarm went off and she dashed back to her own chamber, pulling off clothes as she went. When she’d stripped down to panties and a tank, she folded her belongings and tucked them under the pod.
The whole ship rumbled as the engines ignited and as she settled into her pod, she realized Chief Payne stood upright in his. That couldn’t be good. When he lost consciousness he’d slump down and undo the life-links she’d attached.
She leapt up, returned to his chamber and studied the markings on the side until she found a button showing a picture of the chamber with an arrow pointing down. Hitting it, she stepped back as the entire chamber began to lower, catching his expression of sleepy-eyed appreciation. Through the fogged breathing mask, his lips parted in a silent thank you.
She returned to her own chamber, stepping on something sharp. “Ouch.” Grabbing hold of her sore foot, she hopped over to lean on her pod. With a baleful glance around, she found keys lying on the floor. No doubt those two Blue Helmets would be looking for these later. She picked them up, and took them with her into her chamber.
Getting the electrode patches on Chief Payne had been much easier than doing her own. She twisted and turned, working herself into bizarre positions to get all her electrodes in place. She wasn’t sure she had the ones on her back right, but they would have to do. She inserted the peripheral parenteral nutrition line needle into her arm and laid back as the five-minute alarm went off. Prudence hit the self-close button and put on her breathing mask as her chamber sealed shut. Her eyelids grew heavy as the chamber cooled, and she tried to relax.
In six months, when she woke, she’d have a brand new life. A brand new her.
She’d learn to be strong and smart and never be beholden to anyone again.
As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts turned to her roommate.
For a convicted murderer, Chief Payne seemed nice.
Handsome, too.
New York, Five Months Later
“We’re being attacked.”
Randolph Parnell set his knife and fork down on his plate, sat back in his chair and stared at the young Blue Helmet who’d made that asinine pronouncement. He owned Earth’s military. He’d deported all those people who didn’t appreciate Alfred’s vision, relocating them to Asteria.
With a wry smile, he glanced at his partner and head of security, Donald Bronsen. “He must be drunk.”
Bronson smirked before taking a bite of steak.
Randolph turned his full attention to the Blue Helmet lieutenant providing his report and cocked his brow.
The Blue Helmet's Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “No, sir. Rebels
are
attacking. It’s happening all over.”
Impossible.
Bronsen cleared his throat, his handsome face lit with a wry amusement. “All over the compound?”
“No, sir, not yet.” He shifted his weight. “All over the world.”
With a shake of his head, Bronsen pulled out his Saph-link, a thin, flexible piece of Sapphire, and unfolded the device for use. Good. Bronsen would find out what was what. He had been Alfred’s head of security for years and Randolph had learned a lot from him.
Randolph turned to the Blue Helmet. “And what have these rebels done?”
“Seems to be an organized attack.” The young lieutenant rushed to impart his news, his worried gaze darting between Randolph and Bronsen. “There was no warning. Stations have already fallen in Tel Aviv, Hertfordshire, St. Paul, Phoenix, Tokyo, Ho—”
Bronsen cleared his throat, drawing Randolph’s attention, his expression flat, serious. He nodded in confirmation.
Randolph’s patronizing cynicism dissolved and a sickening knot tightened in his gut. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when he’d finally had a taste of a peaceful, ordered life. “But who? Who the hell has organized the attack?”
“Military orphans.” Bronsen let his Saph-link fall to the tabletop; the device folded in on itself until once again it was small enough to fit into a pocket.
Randolph had a horrific vision of parentless children bludgeoning his soldiers to death, but no, that’s not what the lieutenant meant. He meant all the soldiers who were left without a military. When they’d disbanded the various branches and bombed the remaining bases, he’d assumed some soldiers would escape, but he’d never envisioned there’d be enough to organize and fight back. Not like this.
His head jerked twice. He could feel himself unraveling, losing his careful mastery over his body. Reaching out one unsteady hand, he aligned the unused utensils still lying on either side of his plate.
“We knew this was a possibility.” Bronsen’s calm gaze captured his. “We’ll deal with it.”
Randolph inhaled a slow breath.
They would deal with the rebels. Everything would be fine. He’d put everything into order once, so everything should fall back into place quickly.
“We’ve had some contact with the rebels, sir,” the Blue Helmet said. “They claim they’re answering Chief Payne’s call.”
White-hot fury blazed through him, begging for release.
Almost everything. Like one, misplaced domino, Chief Payne caused chaos amid functioning order.
He slammed his fist down on the table “That son of a bitch made no call. He couldn’t even speak at trial. I made sure of it.” He’d had total control over the trial. There hadn’t been any surprises, despite the fact he hadn’t been able to secure Prudence’s gift.
“Maybe not, sir.” The Blue Helmet’s doe-brown eyes shifted away. “But the people heard his song the night he assassinated Alfred. The rebels sang his hymn while they attacked.” The young Blue Helmet wet his lips. “The attacks are being broadcast.”
“Holo-projector, on.” Randolph stared at the hologram everyone in the world was watching.
Smoke billowed up from his stronghold in Honolulu. The bodies of his soldiers—distinguished by their bright blue helmets—lay amid the wreckage. And the rebels, wearing a conglomeration of uniforms from disbanded militaries, held up their weapons, cheering for the holo-cameras, singing that fucking song.
His eyes blinked hard, repeatedly. He tried to stop the tics, but couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. He’d never been able to amid chaos. “We can’t go back. I can’t go back.”
Under the table, Bronsen’s hand settled on his knee. “Lieutenant, thank you for your report. You’re dismissed.”
Randolph had always been against Alfred’s idea of Utopia. In the early years, he’d wanted nothing to do with such foolishness. He’d been sure Alfred would fail.
But his brother had been brilliant. Once Alfred gained traction with the members of states, of countries like Kenya, Nepal, Chile, and Greece, things started to change. Those countries shipped away prisoners and their national debts began to lower. Other countries took notice and one by one they ceded to Alfred. The U.N. took over governing, putting decades’-old wars to rest. The world had grown too big for self-governing nations. The governments had all become corrupt. Even in countries like the U.S., citizens had become so polarized, no agreements could be made. The political climate grew worse year after year until even the great countries had no recourse but to accept Alfred’s leadership under the U.N. flag if they wanted to survive.
Some thought breaking the nations into smaller governments was the answer. But no, Alfred had the right of it—one global government was the answer. One mission. One set of laws. Life was better now.
And Randolph would be damned if anyone threatened that. He thrived in the new world Alfred created. And he knew, without a doubt, Alfred had built this utopia for him.
“We’re too close to achieving what we set out to do.” Randolph shook his head, trying to disguise the tics jerking his head to the side. “We can’t go back. It would be far worse than before. Can you imagine?” There would be chaos and infighting. There would be no peace. No order. “Nothing got done before Alfred took control. It was just a matter of time before we annihilated ourselves.” Most days, impending Armageddon had been all he could think about. But now, things were better. Now he could breathe.
“No one wants that.” Bronsen stood and pulled him into his arms. “These rebels, they don’t know what they want. We’ll get rid of them.”
“We can’t go back. Nothing made sense before the U.N. took control. Alfred fixed things, lined everything up like dominoes.” Perfectly ordered. No surprises.
When he’d taken over as the U.N.’s Prime Minister, he’d felt invincible. For the first time in his life, people looked to
him
for leadership, instead of Alfred. People listened to him.
Then Prudence left.
He hadn’t cared at first, lying with her was a trial he’d had no stomach for. The way she’d stare at him unnerved him. He never felt in control when she was around. He’d decided since society had accepted him as their new leader and no one had challenged him, he didn’t need to subject himself to her. But lately, fewer citizens came to his rallies. He’d heard what almost sounded like criticism from local media. Lately, he’d wondered if he needed Prudence and her gifts, after all. “Has anyone found my fiancée?”
“Are you sure you want to go that route?” Bronsen’s green eyes bored into his. “I know how difficult you found the whole ordeal.”
“People aren’t listening.” His neck popped as his head jerked to the side.
“You could hand things over to me for a while. I’ll make them listen to you.”
Randolph shook his head. “It’s too far gone for that. No matter how much I hate the idea of fucking her, we have to find her.” He would not go down in history as the Parnell brother who had failed. He’d held that title long enough.
“I know where she is.” Bronsen’s large hand stroked his back, comforting. “The day she left, she went to the Sisters of Charity. The Sisters wouldn’t talk at first, but I . . . persuaded them to tell us where she went.”
A shiver raced over Randolph. Bronsen was a master of torture and he’d taught Randolph everything he knew. He was only sorry he’d missed the chance to watch him work. “And?”
“She boarded
Genesis V
to Asteria. She’ll arrive in about a month.”
“What?” That couldn’t be right. Why would anyone want go to that godforsaken planet? The trip took six months. Even
Apollo
I
, its successor, was excruciatingly slow, taking a full four weeks to get to Asteria. His concerned gaze tangled with Bronsen’s. “I’ll n-n-never g-get her back in t-time.”
Bronsen frowned. “You will calm down.”
How? How could he possibly? Everything was falling apart. He pushed away from Bronsen.
He’d only taken a couple strides before Bronsen slammed Randolph against the wall, wrenching his arm against the small of his back. “Better?”
The world came into sharp focus. The firm pressure of his lover’s weight, the pain from where his shoulder had collided with the wall—all if it grounded him. Randolph nodded.
“I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. Are you taking your meds?”
Randolph tried to push away. He’d quit taking the Haldol. It made him fuzzy and with everything so calm, so ordered . . . . “I didn’t need it.”
“You do. You don’t want the others seeing you like this, do you?” Bronsen rubbed his stubbly cheek against Randolph’s hair. “You take your meds and I’ll have you in Asteria in two weeks.”
“How?”
“You know what they say—technology doubles its advances every six months.” Bronsen bit his ear, sending a sharp pain shooting through his head. “The
Orion I
hasn’t been publicly announced yet, but she’s fit for a maiden voyage. We’ll take a crew and a few soldiers.”
Randolph grunted, reveling in his lover’s solid embrace. “That’s still too long. The war might be lost by then.” He had no desire to be parted from his lover, but perhaps he should send Bronsen to retrieve Prudence and stay behind to ensure the Blue Helmets did their job.
“No one needs to know you’re gone.” Bronsen twisted his arm higher, almost to the breaking point, leaving Randolph panting. “The rebels had surprise on their side today. That’s no longer the case. The Blue Helmets will rally; you’ll call on the citizens of Earth to do their part. While we’re away, you can stay abreast of what’s happening while remaining safe from the war. We’ll be back long before the rebels reach this part of the country, if they ever do. If you need Prudence at all, you’ll need her after this little uprising has finished.”
Bronsen’s reasoning was sound. His military leaders were on guard now. They would rally. They had to. And the speeches he made in the aftermath would be the most important. He’d need to reclaim the faith of all Earthers amid blood and destruction—the antithesis of Alfred’s dream. He needed Prudence if he wanted to be successful. “Do it. Get everything ready. When can we leave?”
Bronsen swung him around, pressing Randolph tight between the wall and his body. His mouth slanted over Randolph’s, demanding, urgent. “Tonight. We’ll arrive a couple weeks before
Genesis V
. We can stand at the arrivals gate and snatch Prudence up as she disembarks. We’ll be back before anyone misses you.”
Randolph nodded. Bronsen always knew what to do. Every time he began falling into the gaping abyss of madness, Bronsen always brought him back.