Quantum (9 page)

Sure, ’cos it’s got nothing to do with the bad vibes you’re rocking.

“Tannin, download everything you can. We’ll take it back to the
Imojenna
and get the ship’s computer to translate it.”

The tech analyst pulled his commpad out of his pocket and set it against the crystal display.

Rian glanced over his shoulder to where the rest of the crew stood.

“This place gives me the creeps.” Nyah crossed her arms and rubbed her hands over her biceps.

“I agree,” Zahli replied. “I’ve seen enough. I’m going to wait outside.”

She paused to kiss Tannin on the cheek then headed back down the corridor, Nyah and Ella trailing in her wake.

Rian resisted the urge to tap his boot impatiently and returned his attention to where the tech analyst worked. After a few silent moments, with the tension expanding like a bubble stretched to the point of bursting, Tannin at last picked up the commpad.

“Okay. I think I managed to download the entire store of information.”

Rian dropped his hand to rest on the butt of his pulse pistol. “Good. Let’s get out of here before someone turns up asking questions.”

He strode out of the lab, forcing his steps to remain even, despite the urge to run tightening his thighs. Outside in the balmy night air, he waited for the last of his crew to clear the doorway then used the codes to close the mountain up. The door clicked into place, looking like no one had ever disturbed it. He scuffed their footprints in the dirt to make sure it didn’t look like they led inside.

The trip back on the shuttle was mostly silent, apart from Tannin and Zahli murmuring to each other every now and then. The closer they got to the
Imojenna
, the tenser Rian became.
Christ.
He needed that bottle of Violaine in his cabin before he sat down to face whatever information they’d gleaned from the lab’s computers.

The thought of what they might find in the downloaded files brought the churning, icy swell back, and he clenched all his muscles to stop from fidgeting in his seat.

As they parked the shuttle and his crew disembarked, he caught the knowing stare Ella sent his way. Anger burned away some of his chill.

Damned priestess.
She might have been right—he might need her and those Arynian abilities to use against the Reidar—but that didn’t mean he had to put up with her meddling. He stomped off the shuttle and paused while Sen locked it.

“Anyone who wants to go join in the party, they’re more than welcome to. We’re staying dirtside until I’ve seen the contents of the Reidar files. You all might as well go enjoy yourselves while you’ve got the chance.”

The sober atmosphere hanging around the crew seemed to lift…though Rian stayed separated, trapped in his dark, oily shadow.

The crew all voiced their thanks and enthusiasm, breaking away toward the lights and noise of the festivities.

Tannin tossed him the commpad then dropped an arm over Zahli’s shoulders and moved off with the rest of the crew. Even Ella went along, linking her arm with Nyah, though the priestess cast him one last unreadable look before she disappeared around a building.

Rian forced out a long breath as he shoved the commpad in his pocket. Looked like it was just him and the
Imojenna
tonight. After the adventures of the day, the prospect actually drained some of the tension from his spine. He could set himself up in his office with a bottle of Violaine and not have to worry about being interrupted or ignore the disapproving glares from his sister.

He glanced along the path his crew had taken, then headed in the opposite direction, toward the spaceport. Didn’t matter about the empty chasm in the middle of his chest. Because the only thing that could ever fill the hole was the destruction of every Reidar in the galaxy. And while he might be a long way off from that goal, one day he would see it realized. Or die trying.

Chapter Eight

Tocarra

He’d stopped feeling his feet about six hours ago.

Zander paused at the base of a chest-high jumble of rocks, staring at them as though he was plotting a way to climb over and continue on. But really, it was just an excuse to give his numb legs a rest.
Frecking christ.

His shoulders and upper arms burned from the burden of carrying Jaren—still unconscious and unresponsive—on a litter they’d strung together from some sturdy branches and ripped-up lengths of thermal blanket. And as for his boots…they were going in a waste chute the second he could find something else to stick on his feet. They’d been designed to look important and match his dress uniform, not actually walk in.

For the first time in his life, he felt every one of his thirty-six years. Old war injuries that hadn’t bothered him for a long while throbbed, while his latest injuries burned, and his head pulsed with a deep ache. The constant worry about Jaren’s injuries wasn’t helping his pounding skull in the least.

Overall, he felt like shite.

And they still had at least two hours of daylight left they should utilize, if they wanted to get out of this godforsaken wilderness soon enough to save the kid.

Overhead, thick, dark clouds bubbled up. If a storm was coming, they might need to find shelter pretty quickly. The prospect of more delays should have frustrated him, but despite his drive to get Jaren some medical attention, setting up an early camp started to sound better with each aching step. And though she hadn’t said a word, he could see Petros had been pushed to the limit as well. He needed her to keep it together, because without her assistance in carrying Jaren, help and medical treatment were that much farther away.

Luckily, despite the personal hell he was firmly entrenched in—like living out Mikel’s death all over again through Jaren—Petros had been an easy hiking partner. After they’d buried Nazari in a shallow grave and stacked stones over the disturbed earth to protect her body from scavengers, his mood had been about as dark as it could get. As he and Petros had set out much later than the dawn departure he’d planned, he’d been prepared to spend the day in uncomfortable, mistrustful silence.

But somewhere between the time he’d spent up against her while the ship searched for them and her assertion that if he trusted Rian, then he could trust her, a little of his wariness had drained away to be replaced by curiosity. That, and the need to be distracted from his constant worry over whether Jaren would make it—the kid seeming worse with each hour.

He still suspected Mae was up to something, that she hid more than she revealed about her motivation for being here. He was fully aware those reasons were probably going to punch him in the face at some point. But he’d lost two good soldiers while another practically circled the drain, and he’d nearly been killed four times. With little energy left to expend on suspicion, he was damn well going to cut himself a break. At least until they got out of this frecked-to-hell forest.

After an hour into the hike, they’d begun talking, starting off on safe topics. He’d told her about the
Swift Brion
and its crew—nothing she probably didn’t already know or couldn’t easily find out—and they’d swapped a few war stories mostly related to Rian, then moved on to life before the Assimilation Wars. Somehow, he’d found himself offering a few tidbits about himself that he’d never shared with anyone else. Everything else had fallen away, and they’d just been a couple of people taking a not-so-leisurely stroll through the woods, talking like they had years of familiarity between them.

The progression from belligerent silence to spilling his guts had been seamless, and when he’d found himself confessing that he didn’t have anything resembling a life outside the IPC, he’d belatedly realized she’d quite possibly worked him over for information like a pro. However, if that had been her intent, she’d kind of failed, because she’d told him just as many personal things about herself.

He glanced down at the lieutenant, her breathing uneven. If she was feeling the effects of the last day, she hadn’t complained. Of course, he didn’t expect a soldier like Petros would. But he could tell she was at least uncomfortable in the tight way her lips pressed together and the lines of strain on her face that hadn’t been there before.

“My canteen is just about dry. Maybe we should break to refill.” Without waiting for her answer, he lowered his half of Jaren’s litter carefully to the ground, her mirroring his movements, and then straightened to roll his shoulders, relieved to have the weight off.

Petros crouched as she lowered her packs and took out her canister, then moved down the slight slope toward the stream they’d followed all day.

With a long sigh, he retrieved his canteen. He tipped out the warmish contents and went to join her. She was kneeling on a flat rock, leaning over while she filled her bottle. As he crouched down next to her, she set her bottle aside and splashed water over her face.

He paused halfway to dipping his container, watching as rivulets ran down her neck to wet the collar of her shirt. He swallowed, throat dry for something water wasn’t going to help with.

Damn it to hell.
His thoughts had teetered on the edge of nose-diving toward the inappropriate all day. Several adrenaline highs pounded into each other, which, along with him spending an hour all over her, kicked his libido into hyper-drive, tightened his body, and primed him. The need for a release of pressure was usually something that didn’t bother him. But out here, with no other distractions or ways to combat the surging feelings, his mind and body locked onto an impossible target: the too-practical but damn alluring Lieutenant Marshal Petros.

As if this situation wasn’t screwed up enough. Wanting the woman who was here for her own agenda was irrational. But, goddamn it, the lieutenant had him twisted up five ways from Sunday, frustration at her evasiveness melting into a blend of lust and suspicion until he couldn’t tell either heated sensation apart.

Petros used the hem of her shirt to wipe her face and then glanced over at him. “Is it just me, or does this water feel unusually warm?”

Clearing his throat, he plunged his hand and the canister into the gently flowing stream. Tepid water washed over his skin, much warmer than he would have expected it to be.

“You’re right. It is a little on the mild side.” Damn. And he’d been looking forward to a soothing, cool drink. But it was liquid, and it’d keep him hydrated.

Petros glanced upstream. “I wonder…”

She stood up and picked her way to the top of the rocks and then surveyed the terrain around them. A moment later, she came back down again, seeming more energized. A spark lit her slate-gray eyes, giving them a diamond-like gleam he liked way more than he should.

“I think there’s a good chance we’ll find hot springs farther upstream. Probably before we make camp, considering the temperature of the water.”

Hot springs?
Christ almighty.
Salvation.
His whole body clenched at the idea of sinking into a pool of bubbling-hot water.

“It’s about damn time we caught a break,” he muttered as he finished filling up his canteen and stood. “Though considering how the past day and a half have gone, I’m assuming there’ll be water snakes or flesh-eating fish in the springs and we won’t be able to go in anyway.”

Her lips twitched, as though she wanted to smile, but she managed to keep her expression bland. “Look on the bright side. Maybe the snakes and fish will be edible, and then we won’t be stuck with just MREs tonight.”

He found himself fighting a grin, too. Damn, but it was so much harder to remember he had to be wary of her when she made jokes with that irreverent glint in her eyes.

“I can catch us something once we make camp.”

Her expression took on an edge of skepticism. “You can?”

He returned to where they’d dropped the packs earlier, with her trailing a step behind him. “Those eight months I spent on Minnea cut off from supplies? We had to learn pretty quickly how to catch our own meals, or we would have starved to death long before the IPC managed to get us out.”

“Rian told me a few stories, but it’s one of a long list of things he doesn’t talk about much. He said you guys eventually ran out of ammo and pretty much held the lines through booby traps and homemade explosives.”

A cold trickle ran down his spine, the same one he always got when remembering too closely things like those extreme months on Minnea. Every day spent feeling like he was standing on a crumbing precipice, waking up wondering if that day would be the one to end them all. Of course, he could now say he’d been fortunate Minnea had been the worst thing he’d experienced during the war. What had happened to Rian afterward had been so much worse, an unimaginable horror.

He glanced at Petros, shoving down the uneasy chill. Did she know Rian’s fate during those missing years, when he’d been taken and tortured by the Reidar? If she knew him so well, did that mean she also knew about the shape-shifting aliens? Part of him wanted to know. But the bigger, more sensible part that didn’t trust her—no matter who her friends were—kept him from asking.

“Minnea was a lot of years ago, and some of those stories have been totally exaggerated.” He bent down to put his flask back into one of the packs.

“But it’s part of what led you to becoming the youngest person ever appointed captain admiral, isn’t it?”

He dropped the pack and straightened, the sense that she was working him over for information returning with a vengeance, making the heat within him boil up again.

“And why are you so interested, Lieutenant?” He advanced on her, and she took two steps backward then crossed her arms and held her ground with a glare.

“You were the one who brought it up.”

Damn it, she was right. So why did he feel like he’d been lured into it? She had him on his toes, not knowing if he should be on the defensive around her or let his guard down enough for them to rely on each other to get out of this forest. Usually, he was the one in charge and held absolute assurance the people around him had his back. He
hated
not feeling in control, like there was a blade on a fraying thread hanging over him that would drop at any moment.

Petros sighed, her shoulders dropping a fraction. “Look, we’re both on edge and I know you don’t trust me, but if we’re going to get out of this wilderness alive, we have to put that aside and work together.”

Her sensible logic only wound the tension within him tighter, the furious heat hitting scorching point.

“Because it’s that simple?”

She nodded, the action hinting at her stubbornness. “Clearly someone is trying to kill one or both of us. If you want to live, it should be, yes.”

He took a step forward, but she didn’t retreat, leaving him standing over her. “If I want to live, maybe I should cuff you to the nearest tree so I can get out with Jaren on my own and send a military prison transport back for you.”

She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze, not seeming the least bit intimidated.

“Try it, Graydon, and see how far it gets you.”

He reached up and clamped a hand on the back of her neck. “You picked the wrong person to play.”

She grabbed a handful of his shirt at the collar, pulling herself closer. “Yeah, well, I have no idea how you haven’t managed to get yourself killed before now, since that ridiculously huge ego keeps getting in the way of your common sense,
Captain Admiral
.”

She said his title with just the right amount of disdain to snap the last strand holding onto his temper. Except instead of restraining her like he’d planned, somehow he ended up yanking her against him, closing the last small distance between them and capturing her mouth in a punishing kiss.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, short nails digging through his shirt into his skin, and she kissed him back just as fiercely. Like nearly every other encounter between them all day, it was a battle of wills, and he lost his head in a nanosecond flat, had no idea where stable ground was any longer as she pressed her lithe body into him.

Though there was already nothing between them, he pulled her harder against him, deepening the kiss, the blaze within him flaring into a white-hot burst that ruptured through his body with furious, searing intensity. But in its wake came a stark moment of clarity, and though his brain had gone into meltdown and he couldn’t grasp a single coherent thought, he shoved away, breaking the kiss and staggering back to put some distance between them.

He stared at her, and she returned his wary gaze, her breathing erratic. Damn it to hell, that
should not
have happened. But he wasn’t going to emphasize it by putting the unmitigated error into words. He was going to regain control and forget that irrational, intense kiss had ever happened.

“We’ve got to make camp before that storm hits, Lieutenant.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth then turned away to snatch up the packs, not saying another word as he went to stand at his end of Jaren’s makeshift stretcher.

Either she’d grab her packs and follow him, or she could stay here for all he cared. Whatever the case, he was going to find the source of the hot springs, set up camp, catch himself a fat bird or game animal for dinner, and avoid any thoughts about Lieutenant Marshal Mae Petros.

Her expression and efficient movements were wary, but with a definite hint of antagonism as she positioned herself at Jaren’s feet.

Crouching down, he cast a quick glance over the younger man and then froze, something in his stillness seeming different to the other hundred times he’d already checked the kid today.

Instead of taking the handholds of the litter, he dropped to one knee, leaning over to press his fingers into Jaren’s neck. But even as he waited for a pulse to register, he couldn’t detect any rise and fall in the officer’s chest.

“
No.
” He scrambled around to Jaren’s side. “No, no—come on, Jaren, don’t do this.”

He braced his hands against the middle of Jaren’s chest, pumping, making ribs crack, but not letting up as he compressed the organ. He was not walking out of this frecking forest without Mikel’s kid brother. No way in hell.