When I reached the ship, I let my carry-on slide to the floor and stared at the closed hatch. What now? I had no idea what the rules were for boarding one’s ship, and there didn’t appear to be a latch.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the smooth surface of the entry. “Lillith?”
“Who goes there?” The strident voice was that of a middle-aged female. It issued from a speaker I hadn’t noticed, and immediately set my nerves jangling.
“I’m Agent Echo Adams. I have orders to report to this berth.”
“Identification.”
Okay, enough. The ship damn well knew who I was. Everyone who passed through the doors of this place was identified to a fare-thee-well. Even without my biochip I had been scanned and my DNA and brainwaves compared to what Alien Affairs had in their databases. That information was checked against the orders on file and instantly transmitted to an agent’s assigned ship. Plus, the hard copy of my orders had been instantly verified by a hidden code embedded in the electronic laminate page.
“How’s this?” I drew my blaster and pointed it at the speaker. “If you don’t open that hatch in two seconds, I’m going to start firing.”
“There’s no need to get ugly about it,” the voice said with a sniff. The door slid open silently. “You can’t be too careful these days, what with all the riffraff hanging around stations.”
My teeth ground together as I put my blaster away, picked up my carry-on and stepped through the opening into the air lock. “Are you implying I look like riffraff?”
There was a brief and deliberate hesitation as the outer panel closed behind me. “Of course not. It’s just that I’ve never seen an agent dressed so…colorfully before.”
“Get used to it. Just because I’m alone on a ship doesn’t mean I’m going to start wearing those drab, cheap uniforms. I have standards.”
“You mean all your uniforms are that bright?”
“Of course not.” The ship gave a sigh of relief before I continued. “I got one in black just in case I have to sneak around at night.”
Ahead of me, the inner door slid open and I stepped through onto the ship’s bridge. It was bigger than I’d expected, and roomy in spite of the equipment consoles lining the space. At the very front, two stationary chairs faced a command center over which a broad, tempered plexisteel window let in light from two of Alpha Centauri’s suns.
“Your quarters are down the hall, first door on the left,” Ms. Snide-and-Superior informed me. “Sick bay is on the right, and there’s a gym in the rear. The deck below this one has three guest quarters and a mess hall…. Oh! You have a dragon bird!”
That last came out in a syrupy sweet tone and I figured I’d just gone up a couple of notches in the ship’s estimation. “What did you think this lump on my shoulder was, a growth?”
“Well, now that you mention it—”
“Her name is Peri,” I said curtly.
Now that we were on board and the creature in question had decided I was stuck with her, she was sitting up and peering around the command center inquisitively.
“If you know Kiera well enough to have your own dragon bird, you must know Max, too,” Lillith gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful? So smart and strong. And wow, what a hull.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble,” I said, moving down the hall. “But we’ve never met.” I rolled my eyes. Only I could wind up with a ship deep in lust. “Peri attached herself to me yesterday during a meeting with Kiera Smith.”
“But Max and Kiera—”
I held up one hand to cut her off as I stepped into the room she’d designated as my quarters. “I don’t want to hear it. Isn’t there something you should be doing? Like taking off, heading out, getting the show on the road?”
My new quarters weren’t bad, considering they were on a flying love machine. They had plenty of space—even a full-sized bed against one wall, and lots of storage. There was even a big mirror over a built-in dresser. Peri hopped off my shoulder and strutted in front of her reflection, extending her wings as she admired her image.
Vain creature.
I deposited my carry-on on the bed, moved over behind her and checked my own appearance as the ship continued. “It would help if I knew where we were going, Agent Adams.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Instantly, my palms started sweating. “Didn’t Dr. Daniels give you the locations of the six most plausible quartz-bearing planets?”
“Yes, he did.” Her voice was caustic. “Would you like me to go ‘eenie meenie’?”
Taking a deep breath, I stiffened my spine and lifted my chin. If I was going to fake being an agent, it was time to start pretending I knew what I was doing. “No, I’ll be right there.”
Leaving Peri examining the lav, I went back to the bridge and took one of the seats. “Show me a map with the systems marked.”
A holovid of the Milky Way sprang to life in front of me, its spiral arms extending outward from a flat central disc comprising billions of stars. The six systems, all marked with red arrows, were spread out across the Orion arm.
I stared at them intently, waiting for inspiration to hit, but my attention kept drifting to a spot in the Sagittarius arm, close to where it intercepted the main disc.
And every time I looked at it, the Imadei would pulse against my skin. Faintly, but enough that I could perceive the change.
“What’s right here?” I asked, pointing.
“Where?”
“Here.” I jabbed my finger through the holo.
Lillith ruminated for a second. “That’s the Trinal system. It has three lone planets, and Madrea, the last in line, is the only one with sentient life.”
Giving a satisfied nod, I leaned back. “Madrea. That’s where we’re going.”
“Oh, no we’re not. It’s not even one of the choices.”
My lips turned down in a scowl at her impertinence. “Yes, we are,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Who’s the agent here, me or you?”
Her response was sulky. “You, I suppose. But I really think you should get Dr. Daniels’s permission first.”
“Did Kiera Smith get his permission before she acted?”
“Well, no…”
“And did Max argue with every decision Smith made?” I asked triumphantly.
“No, of course not. But then, she never told him to go to the Trinal system, either.”
“What’s so bad about the Trinal system?”
“It’s banned, off-limits to all Federation traffic. That’s all I know, because the information is classified.”
Well, schite. Didn’t it just figure? “Patch me through to Dr. Daniels.”
“Excellent idea,” the ship said, back to being her smug, know-it-all self.
There was a flicker from my right and I swiveled my chair around in time to see Dr. Daniels’s image materialize on the deck. “Agent Adams. Having problems already?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “No problem. I just need all the information you can get me on the planet Madrea in the Trinal system.”
His eyebrow arched and a worried expression filled his eyes. “Why Madrea?”
“Because that’s where the Sumantti is.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be without knowing more about this thing.” I touched the stone concealed under the front of my jumpsuit.
Wearily, he lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead. “Then we have a big problem.” He lowered his hand and sighed. “The Madrean king shuns the Federation because he thinks our advanced technology threatens his rule. The planet was colonized by a group of technophobes, and he has the charter to prove it. As a result, the planet was banned to all Federation traffic. Unfortunately, the situation is a lot more complicated than merely honoring the king’s wishes, or we might have won him over with diplomacy. A wrong step on Madrea could plunge the Federation into a civil war.”
He hesitated, reluctance to divulge potentially dangerous information lining his face. I de
cided to help him out of his dilemma. “I still have a top secret clearance from my previous job, so there shouldn’t be a conflict in giving me what I need.”
“Yes, I know.” With a sigh, he leaned to the right and did something out of the holo’s view. “I’m sending the information to Lillith’s data banks. Don’t share it with anyone. And make sure no one finds out you’re an agent for Alien Affairs. Not only could it spark a battle we don’t want, you could end up very dead.”
Curiosity filled me as he straightened and drummed his fingers on his desk thoughtfully, but I reined it in as he continued. “Once you’re there, contact a man named Marcus Kent. He runs a bar, called the Terpsichore, that’s near the main castle in the capital city of Bastion. I’ll arrange to let him know you’re coming.”
“Who is he?”
“A former agent of ours who passes on interesting tidbits of information from time to time.”
“A spy?”
“Of course not.” His lips tilted the tiniest bit on one side. “We would never stoop to spying.”
“Of course we wouldn’t. Sir,” I gave him a smart-ass salute and his smile became full-blown. “Requesting permission to continue, sir.”
“Permission granted. Be careful Agent Adams. We don’t want to lose you.” His image vanished and I suddenly felt very much alone again.
I swiveled my chair back around to face forward. “Have you got the info yet, Lillith?”
“It’s still loading. There seems to be quite a bit of it. This may take a few minutes.”
“How long will the jump to Madrea take?”
“Approximately four and a half days.”
“Okay.” I stood. “Let me know when the info is finished loading. I’ll look at it later.”
“Where are you going?”
I smiled in anticipation. “To organize and color code my clothes.”
“You mean you have more colors?” The ship sounded appalled.
“Yes, I do. Wait until you see the lemon-yellow jumpsuit.” I sighed in pleasure. “It’s made of a synsilk and linen blend, and I have gorgeous lime-green boots and a matching holster to go with it.”
“Sit!” the ship bellowed.
Automatically, my butt hit the chair. “What?”
“You can start reviewing the first of the material now, while I download the rest.”
“What’s the fritching hurry? I mean, we have almost five days.”
“The hurry is because you’re going to need new clothes. I can transmit the order and your measurements ahead to space station ZT Twelve and they’ll be waiting when we arrive. But you have to pick them out first, and they have to be typical wear for the Madrean culture. You certainly can’t go dirt side looking like you do now. They’d spot you two seconds after you landed.” The ship mumbled something I missed.
“What was that?”
“I said, a person on Old Earth with a pair of binoculars wouldn’t be able to miss you in those jumpsuits.”
“Hmph. There hasn’t been anyone on Old Earth since the last big plague. You’re just jealous because you can’t wear nice clothes. And it’s a good thing. You obviously have no taste. But don’t worry, I have enough for both of us. When this job is finished, I think we should have your hull done over in a nice shade of turquoise with deep violet trim.”
“No,” the ship sputtered. “You aren’t touching my—turquoise? Really?” She sounded thoughtful.
“Really,” I assured her. Round Two to my side, I thought a bit smugly. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms. “So, how am I supposed to know what typical Madrean clothing looks like?”
“There are vids included in the information. From what I can tell so far, it seems we had agents on the planet until five cycles ago.”
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”
A vid sprang to life in front of me. It was an open-air market, located on a well-trod, grassy field. Overhead, the sky was a deep blue with fluffy white clouds drifting by, and in the background loomed a massive mountain range. Some of the peaks were so high they were draped in a blanket of snow.
Masses of people swirled through and around booths that held merchandise of every sort imaginable. Voices rang from every direction as the recorder moved through the crowd, some murmuring, others calling attention to their wares. There was a feeling of merriment that dominated the whole affair.
Most of the shoppers were men, but here and there small groups of women eyed trinkets or bolts of material, and a few haggled over live fowl or produce.
And every single one of them was covered from their neck to their toes.
I started to frown as I looked them over. It was obviously a warm day, since most of the men were dressed in sleeveless jerkins. But the women wore long skirts in drab colors, long-sleeved tops, and their hair was tortured into stark knots at their napes.
It was the most horrid clothing I’d ever seen.
Just as I opened my mouth to protest, a flash of color captured my attention. “Stop! Go back.”
Lillith paused the vid and then slowly reversed it until the woman I’d seen filled the image. She was beautiful. Her straight blonde hair fell almost to the small of her back, and she was dressed in a gauzy skirt belted low enough to show her belly button. Her top was some kind of halter that snuggled around her breasts and tied behind her neck. Each ear was adorned with dangling gold that matched the bangles on her wrists.
A woman after my own heart, I thought with a sigh. Then I hesitated. “Why is she dressed so differently from the other women?”
“I don’t know,” Lillith said. “I’m still downloading the information. Hang on a second and let me see if I can find anything in what I’ve got so far.”
The second stretched into a full minute before she answered. “It’s possible she’s one of the Bashalde, the nomadic tribes that inhabit the deserts of the planet. They appear to be less stringent in their moral code.”
Yeah, that made sense. Every nomad tribe I’d heard of or read about usually dressed their women more flamboyantly than other cultures. Look at the Old Earth gypsies. There was also the bonus that it would give me an excellent cover story. City people wouldn’t expect to know every nomad that wandered through the streets. And if I met another nomad, I could always tell them I was from a different clan than theirs.
I’ll admit, it also beat the schite out of wearing those miserable-looking sacks the other women had on.
“Okay, order me one of those outfits she’s wearing, but in a better color. Something bright and eye-catching, like red. No one would expect me to be under cover if I’m dressed to attract attention.”
“Just one?” Lillith asked, starting the vid again.
I shrugged. “That’s probably all I’ll need. How long could it take to get a lock on the stone, grab it, and leave?”
“I’ll order two just in case it takes a few days to find the crystal.”
I glanced back at the vid as Peri zipped in and landed on the back of my chair. Her feathers were a bit damp and she smelled like amberberry shampoo. Since I’d experienced one of her baths earlier that morning, I suspected the lav floor was now covered in three inches of water.
With an inquisitive cheep, she sat back on her haunches and hooked her left front talons in a lock of my hair for balance. Her head tilted to one side as she looked at the vid. I checked to see what had captured her attention and blinked in surprise.
Whoever was recording the vid had left the market and stopped on the edge of a cobblestone square. In the foreground, groups of men were engaged in battle. In the background rose the stone wall of a huge building.
“Shall I stop it now?” Lillith asked.
“No, wait.” I studied the men. They weren’t wearing uniforms of any kind, but I got the impression they were soldiers engaged in a training exercise. There was no blood, no screams of pain. Most of them were bare from the waist up, and sweating profusely. Squared off in pairs, they moved in a graceful ballet of barbarity that seem
ed almost choreographed.
While a few were practicing hand-to-hand combat, most of them were armed, and the weapons ran the gamut from wooden staves to broadswords to bows. There was very little talking, but the clack of wood on wood and the ringing of metal against metal mixed with grunts of exertion or shouts of triumph when one of the men bested another. I could almost smell the dust and sweat rising from the vid.
Abruptly, a male voice lifted over the noise and all the action came to a staggering halt. From the direction of the stone wall two men strode into view, the others parting like water to give them room.
The one in the front was middle aged but in good shape. His hair was a light brown threaded through with silver. He was about average height and his shoulders were wide, his stomach flat. The only thing that set him apart from the other men was his manner of dress. His tunic was a golden-colored silk that complemented his hair, and the belt around his waist was studded with topaz and diamonds.
But it was the man behind him who made my breath hitch.
He towered above the tallest of the others by a good four inches, and even though his clothing was plain, all eyes were drawn to him.
His face was a dichotomy of extremes. A wide forehead and dark brows shadowed deep-set eyes of a piercing crystalline blue. Sharp, high cheekbones highlighted the inward curve of cheek that led to a square, hard chin. His mouth was the definition of sensual, with a slash of upper lip playing against a full lower. It was a mouth that looked like it didn’t know how to smile, but might stop feminine hearts if it ever did.
Mine was sure giving it hell. Especially when my gaze wandered over those long, muscled legs encased in tight russet-colored material, and snug boots that went almost to his knees. Or roamed over his broad shoulders, where a coarse off-white shirt stretched its seams. Even the muscles in his forearms, exposed by partially rolled up sleeves, were hard and taut.
All in all, he was a walking, hunk-o-luscious advertisement for testosterone overload. Even through the vid I felt an odd magnetic pull toward him. It was an unsettling feeling, and I forced myself to shake it off.