Stolen Dreams (3 page)

 

My
life is
ending. There is no more time to perfect my tempometer. I must try it
as is and hope that I come close to the time period I seek. Although I
believe I have figured out how to make a time-hop from one century to
another, I have not uncovered the secret of making a time-hop shorter
than a hundred years.

 

Shara was about to show everyone the
pages,
but something held her back. It occurred to her that her father was
only going through the motions of requesting permission to time-travel
because he didn't really believe she could figure out how to use the
device. For a while, she decided, she would keep this information to
herself.

 

A month later there was still no word from the
Tribunal,
but Shara had made considerable progress on all her projects. Her
genetic tracking program for her microputer was nearing completion.
After secretly borrowing the tempometer for analysis, she began
studying Lantana's notes and gained a fair knowledge of how to operate
the device.

 

With much less enthusiasm, she had done some
research
into the time period she was intending to go back to. She had always
excelled at science and math.
History, on the other hand, was a subject that left her in the dust.
But she realized the necessity of understanding the era in order to
return to it even for a short time.

 

She knew the basics as
well as
any other Innerworlder. A little over ten thousand years ago, a fuel
shortage threatened to cripple the entire planet of Norona. Expeditions
were sent throughout the universe in search of a new source of
volterrin, the rare material upon which the technology of Norona was
structured. After centuries of futile exploration, volterrin was
discovered in abundance in the inner core of the planet Terra.

 

Now,
so many centuries later, Norona was still dependent upon Innerworld to
provide its volterrin. The disaster Lantana had spoken of would cause
all trade to be cut off, creating another crisis situation on Norona.
Shara was certain that fact alone would convince the Tribunal to
approve her journey into the past.

 

Although most of the
population
of Norona had rejoiced when the volterrin source was first discovered,
there was a small group of dissidents who attempted to sabotage the
efforts to import the mineral. These rebels wanted Norona to be forced
to return to simpler times and to give up modern technology completely.
The rebellion was short-lived and a suitable punishment decided upon. A
primitive species of humanoids inhabited Terra's surface at that time.
Since the rebels wanted to live in a simpler time, they were exiled to
live among those less civilized humans.

 

Shara knew she would
have to
learn a lot more about those rebels in order to obtain cell samples
from each. The easiest sample to collect discreetly would
be a strand of hair, but it still required her to come in close contact
with them. Wishing she had paid more attention when she was in school,
she promised herself to set aside a few days to study whatever material
could be found on the rebels.

 

Though she heard the door to her
lab
open and close, Shara needed to complete a calculation before she
greeted her visitor. She knew someone was speaking, but she blocked out
the voice and kept her gaze locked on the monitor before her so as not
to lose her train of thought. The pressure of a strong hand on her
shoulder accomplished what the voice had not.

 

"Aheml"

 

Annoyed
at
the interruption, Shara slanted a glance at the fingers spread over her
shoulder. The closely pared, unpolished nails and the smattering of
fine blond hair on the large hand identified her visitor as a man. Her
gaze continued up a bare forearm to an aqua jersey loosely covering a
pair of muscular shoulders. Intending to deliver a glare that would
have most men pleading for forgiveness, she swiveled her chair toward
him and raised her eyes.

 

Her intended glare lost its hostility
as
she caught sight of his attractive, almost boyish features. His crown
of blond curls, sky-blue eyes, and long eyelashes would have seemed
more fitting on a Terran angel. But the warm body standing much too
close to hers was definitely not that of a spirit. A plain gold earcuff
on his left lobe was the only adornment that was not given him by
nature. He epitomized the type of man she avoided at all costs. Her
irritation increased as she realized that instead of pleading, he
appeared to be patiently waiting for an apology from her.

 

Lifting
his wrist with her thumb and forefinger, she removed his hand, then
brushed the spot on her shirt where his hand had been. "Now that you've
succeeded in interrupting me, what is it you want?"

 

His
features
lost some of their angelic quality as he glowered at her. "You mean you
didn't hear any of what I said when I came in?"

 

Shara gave an
exaggerated sigh. "Of course not. I was in the middle of a calculation.
Everyone knows better than to try to talk to me until I look up from my
work."

 

"I'm afraid your personal work habits are not as widely
known
as you'd like to think. If you don't wish to be disturbed, you should
put a sign on your door. That's what I do, and it is most effective."

 

Shara
got off her stool to face the exasperating man on a more equal level
and was disturbed at having to look up to meet his eyes. At a height
that topped 180 centimeters with her bootheels, she didn't have to do
that very often. "I don't particularly care what method you find
effective. You've interrupted me and I would like to get back to work.
So you may either repeat yourself or leave." As she had done a moment
ago, he now took a turn scanning her from head to toe. He stared at her
eyes for so long that Shara blushed—something she couldn't remember
doing for years. "Well?"

 

"Very interesting," he said,
continuing to
stare. "I had been told Shara Locke was a forerunner in her field,
although a bit impatient and not the friendliest person one might meet.
Obviously that was a fair description. On the other hand, I had
expected a much more . . . mature woman. Tell me, do you have any
control over the way your eyes change, or is it all involuntary?"

 

Shara
opened her mouth to respond, but wasn't certain what she wanted to say.
It sounded as though he had just complimented and insulted her at the
same time. And she certainly didn't intend to volunteer the truth about
her eyes. She didn't know who he was, but she was positive she
shouldn't give him any ammunition that might later be used against her.
Like her father, Shara's hazel eyes changed colors depending on her
moods, which made it virtually impossible to hide her feelings from
anyone who knew her. She always thought of it as fate's way of
counterbalancing her special mental gifts.

 

Deciding it was
better
not to answer him at all, she turned back to the calculation displayed
on her monitor. "Please excuse me. I really am very busy."

 

"Getting
ready for your trip back in time?"

 

She gasped as she spun
around again. "How do you know about that?"

 

He
smiled, a wide, self-assured grin that showed off perfect white teeth
and a deep dimple in his cheek. "Surely you didn't think you could keep
something like that a secret. The rumors are flying throughout the
academic community."

 

When he didn't receive the response he
expected, he stopped smiling. "Perhaps it would be best if I simply
began again." He held out his hand to her and waited until she accepted
it for a brief, impersonal shake. "I am Gabriel Drumayne, Professor of
History and Chief Procurer of Antiquities for Norona. Although I do
have an office and residence in Innerworld, I spend very little time
here, so I realize you may not recognize me. But you must be familiar
with my name."

 

Shara did not hesitate to stick a pin in his
arrogant little balloon. "I am very sorry to disillusion you,
Professor, but your fame is not as widespread as you imagine it to be.
I've never heard of you."

 

His
smirk told her he found that hard to believe. "Nevertheless, you are
hoping to receive permission to travel back in time. You will
undoubtedly need an expert on Noronian and Terran history to accompany
you on such a landmark venture. As I am the most qualified historian
available, I will be going with you.

 

Shara
swallowed
the retorts that popped into her head, Says who and Don't bet your
airship on it being two of the less profane comments his egotistical
declaration prompted. Smothering a laugh at her own contrariness, she
opted for a less aggressive line. "I believe I might have something to
say about that." With a dismissive air, she returned to her work.

 

Again
his hand closed over her shoulder, this time turning her back toward
him. "You aren't just unfriendly, you're rude. I can't believe the
Governor's daughter hasn't been taught better manners."

 

She
bristled
at his reference to her father. "And you . . ." she glared at his hand
until he released her, "are a brute. If you manhandle me once more, I
will call security."

 

His mouth dropped open in shock.
"Manhandle?
You are not only rude, you're unbalanced. Perhaps I shall have
something to say about who goes on this trip."

 

Shara paused,
not
certain whether he really might have a say in the matter, and attempted
to regroup. "I apologize if I've been . .. rude, but I dislike being
interrupted when I'm in the middle of a difficult calculation. I will
be glad to discuss the trip with you at another time, when I'm not so
busy."

 

Gabriel
studied her for a second, then apparently decided it was the best he
could do. "Fine. How about first thing tomorrow morning . . . before
you get involved in another difficult calculation?"

 

Even
though she
heard the sarcasm dripping from his words, Shara nodded in agreement.
"Meet me for breakfast in the dining room downstairs at
oh-eight-hundred."

 

Gabriel nodded in return, aware that she
had made
a point of giving him an order rather than a suggestion. As he left the
lab and headed out of the building, he shook off the uneasy feeling he
had had from the moment he heard about the venture. Before he
approached Shara, he had asked several people about her. Regarding her
work, she received the highest praise—brilliant, devoted, obsessive.
Descriptions of her personality were less flattering— humorless, cool,
antisocial.

 

Naturally, with warnings like that, he had been
prepared
for the worst upon meeting her. And maybe that had caused him to be on
the offensive . . . but a brute? He had never committed a violent act
on a woman in his life. Unless one counted the Kesian female who had
decided he would make an excellent main course for her dinner.

 

All
in all, he had to admit he'd handled the situation badly, but he would
have the chance to correct his error tomorrow. Rumors abounded about
the purpose of the trip, but the consensus was that she was the one
behind it. Being the Governor's daughter practically ensured her having
her own way in the matter ... if she got the approval of the Tribunal.

 

A
trip back in time could be the apex of his career.
And, for that opportunity of a lifetime, it appeared to be vital that
he gain Shara's approval. It had been a long time since he had tried to
court a woman's favor.

 

The problem was, although Shara looked
like a
woman—and a beautiful, well-formed one at that— she hadn't reacted to
him the way most women did, with soft smiles and inviting glances. He
knew what those women wanted from him and, when he chose, he gave it to
them. Having spent most of his life on the fringes of civilization, he
hadn't the slightest idea what else might influence a woman like Shara.

 

Perhaps
his assistant, Ferrine, could give him some advice.

 

Shara
switched off her monitor and set her work aside for the day. Gabriel
Drumayne, professor, procurer, and general nuisance, had broken her
train of thought, and she couldn't seem to get it back on track. He had
been right about her being rude, not that she would ever admit it to
him.

 

She never liked being interrupted, but it was much more
than
that. One look at his handsome face and the smile that said he knew
just how good he looked, and her self-defense mechanism had kicked in.
From previous experience, she should be immune to attractive,
self-confident men. But since she wasn't, rudeness usually sent them on
their way and protected her from her own weakness.

 

They say a
woman
never forgets her first love, but Shara wished she could. Like the
professor, her first love had had fair coloring and broad shoulders,
and she had fallen so fast she never wondered whether he felt the same.
She gave him her love and her virginity, two things her Terran mother
had convinced her should not be given lightly.

 

Shara
had always understood that her mother's sense of morality was not the
norm in Innerworld. The average Noronian accepted coupling as a
pleasurable physical experience that did not require any emotional
entanglement. At the Indulgence Center, a sexual encounter was just one
of a long list of entertainments available. Yet Shara had felt more
comfortable adopting her mother's more reserved attitude toward
intimacy.

 

She had mistakenly believed her first young man had
wanted
more from her than a biological release, but even that would not have
been as bad as what he had really wanted. After they made love, he let
her know how disappointed he was with her. He had thought sex with a
mixed-breed would be a unique experience; yet not only was she not
unique, she wasn't even skilled.