Operation Hydra (2 page)

“Dr. Hydran, I would like to speak with you.”

“So speak.”

Carefully, painstakingly, Krysta modulated her voice, infusing it with command and compulsion. “I would like to speak with you face-to-face.”

The intercom system changed the sound of her voice, filtered it,
protected
him. Would he obey? She had never sent so strong a compulsion. Never managed this much control.

* * * * *

Trey dar Aune felt the Mystic pull of the healer’s voice. It was an ability well known to the people of Ontariese, his people. The healer’s people, though she didn’t know it, yet. Did Dr. Hydran realize he was being influenced?

Trey glanced at the man standing beside him. Hydran was reputed to be one of the most brilliant minds in the galaxy, but Trey wanted to snap his scrawny neck. Any man who would endanger a child’s life to pique the interest of a potential customer was beneath contempt.

“Would you like to meet my little hellcat, Mr. Darrin?” Hydran’s gaze never left the indignant woman. She glared directly at him, though Dr. Hydran claimed she couldn’t see into the observation booth.

Trey didn’t answer. He would love to talk with the healer, to quiz her about this Godforsaken Center, and the people exploited here, but that conversation was a long way off. For two cycles of Earth’s moon, Trey and his team had planned every detail of this rescue, anticipated every outcome, every complication. But their strategy had been compromised by a frustrating lack of information. So, Trey had come to the Center to learn.

“Let’s go,” Hydran said.

Trey watched the full-body scanner pass over Dr. Hydran. He looked ordinary, a man of medium height and build, with thinning gray hair and common blue eyes. His sagging jowls and wrinkled skin were all typical of a man in his late sixties.

The healer faced them, her angry gaze focused entirely on the source of her fury. Trey stayed near the door, silently watching. Hydran moved toward her, flanked by his personal guardians, both burly men with some sort of weapon strapped to their side.

“Here I am.” Hydran made a gesture with his large beverage container — coffee mug, Trey corrected. One corner of the healer’s mouth curved upward. “Go ahead, rail about the blackness of my soul, then return to ward B.”

“I’d rather watch you writhe,” she said casually.

Without shifting her gaze from Hydran’s watery blue eyes, the healer jump-kicked the mug right into his face. The steaming beverage doused his skin, the mug broke against his jaw —and Dr. Hydran writhed.

He screamed and the healer smiled. Hydran’s two guardians grabbed her and Trey instinctively started forward. He shouldn’t interfere. He
couldn’t
interfere. Damn it! But he couldn’t let them hurt her. They twisted her arms behind her back, pressed their slender, wand-like weapons to her temples, and waited for Hydran’s order.

Wiping his face with his hands, Hydran spun in a circle, shouting obscenities. He stalked toward the healer. She bent her knees, dragging the guardians down with her. Their boots stomped down on top of her feet, keeping her from kicking. She twisted and spit before one of the men clapped his hand over her mouth.

“I should strangle you.” Hydran sneered.

Should,
Trey noted, not
I’m going to.
He slowed his pace, waiting, watching. The lower portion of Hydran’s face and the right side of his neck were already a vivid red. He reached for the healer with both hands and she went utterly still, but the belligerence never left her eyes. She wasn’t afraid to die.

Hydran grabbed the front of her uniform and yanked with both hands, baring her to the waist. The healer made a desperate little sound and tears escaped the corners of her eyes. To hell with the masquerade! He was
not
going to stand here while this depraved old man… Trey strode forward, but Hydran turned from the healer and moved to the sink. Hydran soaked the material of her uniform with water and pressed it carefully against his face.

The healer saw Trey, perhaps for the first time. Her eyes stared at him in unblinking horror. Had she never seen an “alien” before? Or was she afraid he would take up where Hydran let off? Keeping his expression blank, he moved behind her and waited for the scene to play out.

Hydran’s guardians rubbed against her, enjoying their task entirely too much. Trey clenched his fists.
You can’t play hero! Hydran must believe you’re one of them.

“My skin is blistering,” Hydran muttered. Motioning his guardians toward the door, he glanced at Trey. “Are you coming?”

“May I stay and speak with her?” He tried to sound casual, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry, or so intrigued.

“Do whatever you like with her,” Hydran snarled. The guardians released her. She stumbled, but didn’t turn around. Following Hydran from the chamber, the guardians left him alone with the healer.

Trey stared at her slender back, amazed by her wild spirit and amused by her foolishness. It was all he could do not to cheer when she kicked the hot beverage into Hydran’s face. But he had a role to play, and loathsome as he found it, endearing himself to Dr. Hydran was part of that role.

Quickly unfastening his jacket, he blinked repeatedly, forcing himself not to rub his eyes. Dro Tar, one of his crewmembers, had warned him that the “contacts” would slip out of place if he rubbed his eyes. He pulled off his jacket and slowly approached the healer. She stood motionless, her arms covering her naked breasts.

Unbidden, a vivid image of her breasts appeared within his mind: full, round, and thrusting toward him. Oh, to be a bad man for just a little while. He dropped the jacket onto her slender shoulders and immediately stepped back.

She started, then stilled. It took her another moment to fully regain her composure. He just waited, fighting his admiration. She must be uncertain of him, or he’d never earn Hydran’s trust.

He heard her deep, extended sigh. She pulled her thick, blonde hair out from under the jacket and slipped her arms into the sleeves. Hip-length on him, the jacket nearly reached her knees. She turned to face him. A deep flush colored her cheeks and her swirling purple eyes stared at him suspiciously.
Swirling, purple,
Ontarian
eyes.

He half-sat, half-leaned against the sleeping station where the little girl had been.
His boots were crossed at the ankle and his arms braced on either side of his hips. Her gaze moved over him slowly and Trey smiled. Fair was fair.

“Who are you?” Her voice still trembled.

“My name is Trey Darrin. Your demonstration was conducted for me.”

She swallowed, her hands tightly clutching the front of his jacket. “Which demonstration do you mean?”

He laughed. “As amusing as it was to watch, your temper tantrum was really quite foolish.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What made you so angry? Dr. Hydran led me to believe you’d participated in these sorts of demonstrations many times before.”

Her nostrils flared and her lips compressed into a tight line. “Hydran is a vile, evil man. If you’re in league with him, there will be no peace in your life from this day on.”

Trey arched one eyebrow. “Is that a curse?”

“An observation.”

He made himself move. Intimidation was definitely not his style, but there was far more at stake than one hotheaded healer. He took her chin and raised her face until her petulant gaze met his. “Answer my question.”

“Or what?
You’ll beat me? Strangle me?”

In one lightning fast motion, he released her chin and hooked his forearm under her rounded bottom. He pulled her off the floor, dragging her body along his chest. Her arms were trapped between them and the strength of his hold kept her from struggling.

“I didn’t see fear in your eyes until you thought he meant to rape you,” he whispered into her ear. “I found that very interesting. Now, will you answer a simple question, or shall we investigate my observation?”

“Put me down.”

He caressed her bottom. “Answer my question.”

“I had to adjust the vibration of the healing pulse. It’s an adjustment few healers can manage. If Hydran had summoned most of the others, the little girl would have died.”

Trey eased his hold, slowly sliding her down along his body. The instant her toes touched the
floor,
she shoved hard against his chest and scampered away. She jerked the sheet off the sleeping station and turned her back to him. Frantic to be rid of his jacket, she yanked it off over her head and draped herself in the sheet. With so forceful a kick it nearly toppled
her,
she propelled the jacket across the smooth tiles. It collided with his boots.

“Stay away from me.” Somehow, she made it sound like a threat.

Trey heard the door release when he bent and picked up his coat. Stepping out into the corridor, his steps staggered to a halt. Dr. Hydran emerged from the observation booth, his lecherous expression making it obvious he’d watched at least part of the tussle. Anger twisted through Trey; he clutched the material of his jacket.

“Well done, my boy. Could it be that the hellcat from ward B has finally met her match?”

Krysta sat on her bed, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, shaking. Even safely covered by a fresh uniform, she felt naked — vulnerable. Today was the first time in the past eight years Dr. Hydran had managed to surprise her. He was predictable. He was amoral and utterly without conscience, but at least he was predictable.

Until today.

Who was Trey Darrin? Why had Dr. Hydran allowed him to observe a healing? Outsiders weren’t allowed in the Center, much less off-worlders. Krysta shivered, hugging her legs tightly. She had seen vidfiles of aliens, mostly humanoid, but a few reptilian and amphibian; strange, yet fascinating creatures.

Trey Darrin was one of these creatures. No, Trey was no
creature
. He was intelligent, even shrewd. His rich bronze-tinted skin couldn’t be replicated by chemical reaction or cosmetics, and it was undeniably alien to Earth. Blacker than night, his wide, thick-lashed eyes had no rings, no distinction between iris and pupil, just an endless field of black.
And his hair.
Red, gold, copper and bright orange, Krysta had never seen so many colors in one head of hair.

The Planetary Coalition for Free Enterpriser, or PC for FE, as most people called them, had shoved aside governmental misgivings and formed a worldwide organization establishing interplanetary commerce over a hundred years ago. But so much of what happened beyond the dome had no impact on the occupants of the Center. Krysta never dreamed she’d be in the same room with an alien.

A buzzer sounded and she told the door to her tiny bedroom to open. Belle rushed in, kneeling on the floor beside the bed and reaching for her hands.

“What happened?” Belle cried. “Please tell me I misunderstood what I felt.”

“You misunderstood what you felt. They didn’t hurt me like that.”

“
They?
What happened?”

“How do I explain?” She rested her head against the wall and relaxed enough to lower one leg. “Hydran summoned me for a healing. The patient was a little girl. I nearly lost her.”

“Oh, Krysta, I’m sorry.”

She accessed their telepathic link, sending her thoughts directly to Belle’s mind.
Then, I sort of lost it. I used my voice to bring him into the treatment chamber.

Bell’s eyes widened.
And it worked? Even with the modulator, he obeyed?

She pulled Belle toward her, bringing one of her sister’s hands to her forehead. “Just watch the memory.”

Krysta closed her eyes and released the images to Belle.

“I don’t understand.” Belle sat back on her heels.

“Yeah, neither do
I
. Why did Hydran allow an outsider to watch a demonstration? He was an off-worlder. Hydran’s never done anything like this before.”

“Not that we know of,” Belle corrected. “We’ve never sensed an outsider in the booth, but he could have broadcast images of any of the procedures without our knowledge.”

“But he let this man come into the treatment chamber. He let him…”

“Touch you?”

Krysta shivered, while the memory washed over her. He’d been so strong, but he hadn’t hurt her. He’d seemed so gallant — until he turned lecherous.

Why didn’t you use your voice on the stranger?

I was too weak.
Thinking back, Krysta realized she hadn’t even tried. She licked her lips, seeing him again as he lounged against the treatment table. The jacket had left no doubt that he was well formed, but the plain white shirt beneath stretched tight, outlining every detail for her hungry eyes. Impossibly broad shoulders, rippling torso and thickly muscled arms, just the memory made her insides clench.

Yeah, but did you get weak before or after he took off his jacket?

Krysta laughed, allowing herself to relax. Thank God for Belle.

What do you think Mr. Darrin wants?
Belle sounded thoughtful.

I have no idea. But we need to find out.

* * * * *

“It is so simple!” Dr. Hydran laughed.

He paced the length of the blindingly bright office, making Trey more uncomfortable with each pass. Did this bully hope to hide his depravity by painting the whole world white?

“I’ve tried everything to control Krysta. She won’t respond to anything except threats to Belle, and that —”

“Who is Belle?” Trey sat in a chair several paces back from Hydran’s desk.

“Her sister.
They’re twins and Krysta is very protective.”

“Why do you need to control Krysta? Aren’t all of the participants in Operation Hydra here voluntarily?”

“The original participants were, but…” Hydran stopped pacing. Leaning against his desk, he studied Trey. “You’ve offered monetary compensation for the use of one of my healers. How much do you know about the program or how much do you think you know?”

Trey shrugged. “I know what I need to know. You’re about to lose your funding. You have something I need and I’m willing to pay for it.”