City Of Tears (8 page)

“I sent two men and a woman. The woman was necessary because the others didn’t speak Rodyte, and Pern Keire refuses to speak anything else. He listened to their proposal, casually informed them the offer was not adequately beneficial to Rodymia, and spent the next two days raping the woman while the men were forced to watch. When this no longer amused him, he summoned his guards and watched while all three were raped,
repeatedly
. I am not the one obsessed with rape. It is a common pastime on Rodymia.”

Her research had recorded vague instances and rumors, but nothing like this. Was his story a clever ploy to keep her from going? Despite his arrogance, Cyrus was nobody’s fool and manipulation was his specialty. Stay or go? Start over without Cyrus or finish what they’d begun?

She’d come too far to start over. The Rodytes already had the design. The Stirate couldn’t develop the technology without her, and she would refuse to continue without his protection. It was a good plan.

“If they really are the animals you say, why are
you
negotiating with them?” she asked in a calm, cool voice.

He gaped at her. “You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He shook his head, his gaze filled with pity and regret. “As soon as you are taken before him, kneel. Keep your eyes downcast and don’t speak until he speaks to you.” The central com chimed announcing the shuttle’s arrival on the roof of the building. “Don’t give him ultimatums. He won’t kill you, but he will make you wish you were dead. The best advice I can give you is … to please him.”

She arched her brow. That was the best he could do? “I can be his whore or his victim? That’s not much of a choice.” After steering her hovercase across her flat, she paused and shot Cyrus a scathing glance. “I will be no man’s victim, so I guess I’m destined to be a whore.”

He didn’t follow her to the rooftop landing pad, so Ensley allowed her expression to relax. As usual Cyrus saw what he expected to see. Did he really think she’d jaunt off with the Rodytes without researching the situation?

She’d studied Rodyte customs as well as learning their language. They put no more importance on sex than any other bodily function. If they were hungry, they ate; if they were fatigued, they slept; and if sexual desire stirred, they copulated. Rape was not met with abhorrence by the Rodytes because they didn’t revere sex. Sharing a partner was no more significant than sharing a meal.

Many misconstrued their actions as barbaric, while in reality they were bound by a strict code of conduct. Honor was everything to the Rodytes. They would die to protect their honor and kill to avenge the honor of those close to them. The key to dealing with Rodytes was understanding what
they
considered honorable.

* * * * *

“Well, this is a great big barrel of
suck
.”

Lyrik laughed, drawing Saebin’s attention away from the confounding person seated across from them. Dro Tar spoke a bizarre dialect of Earthish that Saebin could barely comprehend. After inviting them into her living quarters, she told them she was going to “put on something more appropriate.”

Saebin stared at the brightly colored walls and the translucent furniture, torn between fascination and abhorrence. The material covering the floor had long, individual strands, making it appear shaggy. Hung at sporadic intervals along the walls were framed images depicting pale-skinned, dark-haired men in menacing poses. Most of the men were groping large-breasted women and many displayed fangs.

“What are those?” she asked Lyrik.

“Reproductions of movie posters. Movies were entertainment vidfiles people gathered to watch on large screens. These posters advertised vampire movies.”

“What is a vampire?”

“I’ll leave that one for Dro Tar.”

Walking to the wide, purple sofa, Saebin poked it with her finger. The smooth, shiny couch was inflated with air or some sort of gas.

“You think this is bizarre, you should see her bedroom.”

Lyrik sat on one end of the sofa. Saebin took the other, wiggling until she accustomed herself to the odd, floating sensation. “Is this person your lover?”

He laughed. “Hardly. Her tastes run toward tall, dark, and dangerous, as you can tell.” He motioned toward the movie posters.

Dro Tar returned a short time later, wearing faded blue jeans and a different tee shirt. This one was formfitting, with a slogan that read:
Submit, Worship, Obey!
In progressively larger letters.

“I hate to drag you into this,” Lyrik told Dro Tar, “but I really wasn’t sure where else to take her.”

“Hell, trouble’s my middle name. I love a good intrigue. Your Daddy Dear would rather have a root canal than deal with me, so robocop should be safe for a while anyway.”

“I know you’ve taken on some unconventional tasks for Trey. If I give you an anonymous access code, will you do some snooping around for me?”

“Depends whose business I’ll be snooping into.”

“We have reason to believe the woman who helped design Saebin’s implants and body armor is here on Ontariese. It’s possible she’s in the City of Tears, but if she’s working for the overlord she’ll be damn hard to trace.”

“How is that possible?” Dro Tar glanced at Saebin, her expression tense and concerned. “The only people who came back through the portal were the refugees and your crew. Did we have a stowaway?”

“The woman we’re looking for is one of the refugees. Saebin doesn’t know her name, so see if you can find an image roster.”

Saebin fidgeted on the inflatable couch. How well did Lyrik know this woman? Saebin hated her vulnerability and the raw aching emotions churning just beneath the surface. She needed her suit, longed for the balance, the barrier. Uncertainty bombarded her. She wasn’t sure she trusted Lyrik, much less his unusual friend.

“When’s the last time you spoke with Krysta?”

Dro Tar wiggled back in her chair, which was shaped to look like a giant hand, and crossed her legs in front of her. “Last week, I think. Is that important?”

“This is all so damn complicated. If the miners actually sent the message, Father shouldn’t be looking for us yet. As soon as he realizes we’re onto him —”

“The shit hits the fan?”

He grimaced. “I have no idea what that means, but the mental image is disgusting.”

“Don’t let him know.” Dro Tar shrugged. “March her back into the detention center and insist on overseeing her retraining yourself.”

“I’m scheduled to ship out at the end of the week.” He shook his head. “As soon as we set foot on the Day Moon, I’m no longer in control. It’s too risky.”

“Then take her with you on the
Tempest
.”

Saebin listened to the conversation, growing more annoyed with each exchange. They were devising and discarding possibilities with no input from her. “I’m in control of my implants now. Do I get a say in any of this?”

“We don’t have many options,” Lyrik said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Their determination to learn how my armor works is our only advantage. My suit doesn’t function without me, and I will not allow it to control me again.”

“You aren’t strong enough to risk going back into that thing.” Lyrik faced her, his expression adamant. “You were just barely in control before. You teleported without knowing why. You —”

“Can’t her implants be removed?” Dro Tar asked.

Lyrik looked at Dro Tar before he replied. “I was told she wouldn’t survive their removal, but I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“The implants replaced portions of my brain. I would not be fully functional without them.” Damaged, broken, altered, she would never be the trusting person who had walked into ward D filled with excitement and anticipation. She let anger roll through her, accepting the cold, cutting wave. Hydran had changed the nature of her existence, and she would snuff out that existence before she allowed
anyone
to control her again. “I’m not convinced I can remain separated from my armor indefinitely. The overloads alone can kill me. I don’t honestly know what other malfunctions might occur.”

Warm and caressing, Lyrik’s gaze returned to her face. “I suspect we can find creative ways to deal with your overloads, so let’s concentrate on strengthening your control.”

Heat suffused her face, and sensual echoes teased her memory. He’d spread beneath her, hot, hard, male as she rubbed against him. What would it be like to straddle his big body while they were both awake and naked? She shivered, her nipples poking against her uniform top. Her anger ebbed, leaving determination and desire.

“All right, you two. Rein in the hormones. If removing the implants isn’t an option, how does she strengthen her control?”

“I know nothing about Mystic abilities.” Lyrik shifted on the sofa, obviously uncomfortable with the admission. “All I know for certain is we’re not going to figure this out in a day or two.”

“She needs to escape,” Dro Tar said cheerfully.

“And go where?”

She laughed. “Right here. I’ll smack you with something to make it look like you put up a fight, and then you can fly the shuttle back to the COT. Oh, wait this is even better. She forced you to fly her here and then gave you the slip. They’ll have all of Frontine to search, and the security vids at the shuttle lot will back up your story.”

“There’s no way she could force me to endanger the general population, and Father —”

“Shutting people off isn’t my only trick.” Saebin waited until he looked at her to go on. “I can compel people into action. We were in the corridor when I blasted your hand. Your father knows you’re not completely immune to my abilities.”

“Where’s your body armor?” Dro Tar scooted to the edge of her chair, anticipation shining in her eyes.

Saebin hesitated. Was Dro Tar looking forward to an energizing adventure, or was she anxious to get her hands on the suit?

“It’s still on the shuttle,” Lyrik replied. His features settled into a fierce scowl. Saebin could only guess which aspect of the situation had him so irritated.

“Stow it in one of the lockers before you com Daddy Dear,” Dro Tar said.

Lyrik shook his head. “The lobby is under surveillance.”

“Damn.”

No one said anything for a moment. Dro Tar drummed her fingertips against her knee, her expression clearly thoughtful, while Lyrik continued to scowl.

“I’ll make one last scanner sweep of the city before I contact my father.” Lyrik’s features relaxed as his gaze turned cunning. “The trams are a logical target, which will take me through several crowded intersections. How well can you navigate your shuttle?”

Dro Tar grinned. “I know what you’re thinking. You spent your first cycle out of the academy masquerading as a smuggler.”

“Have you ever done a midair drop?”

“I think I can handle it.”

Saebin touched Lyrik’s knee, drawing his attention. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll load your suit into my shuttle’s expulsion tube and shoot it through the emergency hatch of Dro Tar’s shuttle.”

“You learned this maneuver from smugglers?”

He nodded, mischief making his green eyes sparkle. “I learned a lot of things from those smugglers.”

“How will you explain losing both your hostage and the body armor?” Saebin asked.

“You were never my hostage, and as far as everyone is concerned you’re still wearing the body armor.”

Dro Tar scrubbed her hair with both hands, rearranging the spikes. “As soon as you check in with Cyrus, he’ll start tracking your micryte.”

“She’s right.” Lyrik sighed, his troubled gaze settling on Saebin. “I can’t come back here. I’ll lead him right to you.”

“Not with ‘way-cool-super-spy’ on your team.” Dro Tar laughed and bounded out of her hand-shaped chair.

Saebin turned to Lyrik as Dro Tar disappeared into her bedroom. “Are you sure we can trust this woman? She seems rather — unbalanced.”

“Trey has depended on her for years, and I trust Trey’s judgment implicitly.”

“What about Trey’s loyalty? You said he’s Krysta’s life mate; what is his connection to the overlord?”

Conviction ignited in his gaze. “Trey is the Director of Covert Ops for the COT, but his loyalty is to Ontariese not to the overlord.” He scooted to the edge of the creaky sofa and cupped her hands between his. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of Dro Tar.” The way-cool-super-spy returned before he could say more.

“This little gizmo injects a nanite that attaches itself to the micryte.” Her brows drew together over her expressive eyes. “I think that’s right. Anyway, it will randomly modulate the signal until the micryte dissolves. You’ll go dark some time tomorrow, but they’ll have no idea where you are in the meantime.”

“Why is the process so lengthy?” Saebin asked.

“If the nanite worked any faster it would screw up the immune system and make our hero sick.” She walked to Lyrik and held out the injector.

“Is leaving Saebin here going to be a problem? What’s your current assignment?” Lyrik took the small, metallic device from her outstretched hand, turning it this way and that.

“Infiltrating the NRS. I’m to immerse myself in their propaganda without losing sight of the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Saebin echoed. “Your tone changed when you said those words. What do they mean?”

“It’s an idealistic concept that has little meaning anymore,” Lyrik muttered. “The sacred traditions challenge everyone to commit themselves to the greater good, to put the well-being of others above their own preferences and desires. When the House of Joon challenged this ideal, it started the Great Conflict.”

“The NRS is attempting to rekindle this conflict?”

“In a way,” Dro Tar said. “The NRS is frustrated by the concentration of Mystics on the Joint Council. They feel people without Mystic abilities are no longer valued.”

Saebin’s sensory ring buzzed, and she rubbed the back of her neck. Incomplete circuits, random signals, her nervous system couldn’t defuse the stimuli.

Lyrik touched her shoulder, his hand firm and warm. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, leaning into his caress. “I’m tired.”

“I shouldn’t be gone long.” He continued to touch her, rubbing her neck and stroking her hair. “They may have tampered with the circuitry, incorporated some sort of homing device. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, don’t reactivate your armor.”