The Alpha Prime Commander (6 page)

Jackson snorted in
disgust, shaking his head.  “It must have really burned your ass to find out
you were going to have to share your fated Pletar with a human male.  Bet you
thought if you could get me under your thumb before Lena came along I would
stay there, and you could keep the control you Primes value so damn much.” 
Jackson stepped forward so that they were almost nose to nose, his eyes narrow
and full of anger.  “Tell me, oh great fucking Commander of the Alpha Prime,
where was your lauded control today?”

Lo laughed and it was not
a happy sound.  “I had none,” his answer was bitter, and he did not even bother
to hide his self-disgust.  “Is that what you want to hear, Captain Jackson
Ambar of the Planetary Alliance?  When I searched for my Pletar and felt what
she was feeling, how she felt about you,” he said, tasting the bitterness of
his words, “I had no control, and when the connection between us all snapped
into place, and I felt you there . . . well, you are right, I did not think of
my schemes or plans for us all, I only saw myself losing her, and I lost my
fucking mind.”

Cordan stood there and
let the man see what he was feeling on his face.  And Jackson saw it all, and
some of the tension left him.  “What would you have done?” Cordan asked, his
voice lower.  “You are a part of her now, you know who she is; what would you
have done if you felt her slipping away to another man?”

Jackson blew out a breath
and then dropped back to the couch, rubbing his hands through his hair and over
his eyes.  “I would have lost my mind and done my best to rip your fucking dick
off.”

Finally, Jackson laughed
and looked back up at him, and then at Lena where they stayed and heated.  “So
what the fuck do we do now?”  Lena had been silent through most of their
exchange, and she looked at the men cautiously, but they could all feel the
sexual tension between them that lived in the air, even if they were all
ignoring it for the moment.  Jackson went on.  “I’m a Captain in the Alliance,
you are the Commander of the Alpha Prime, and she . . .,” he raised a brow at
Lena, “I have no clue where you come from, sweetheart, only that you have a
questionable skillset.”  The way he said ‘sweetheart,’ the word was not an
endearment.

Lena narrowed her eyes at
him and then she smiled her own brand of teeth baring at his tone of voice.  “Assassin,”
she said boldly.  Her chin lifting, “Black Hand.”

The words fell into the
room like a hatchet.  Cordan watched as Jackson’s eyes shuttered; he felt an instant
wall go up between them, but from the way Lena flinched at their Roenh’s
reaction, she was the one cut.

Jackson stood against the
wall watching as the leaders of twenty-five of the most influential houses in
the known galaxies mingled.  Dressed in their finest and oozing money and
power, these were the power brokers and the policymakers for billions of
lives.  Most were humanoid in shape, though still alien in appearance.  Skin
colors and the number of appendages were as varied as the coverings they chose,
but every one of them wore power like a cloak and arrogance as a perfume.  Then,
Lo Cordan, Commander of the Alpha Prime, prowled in as unarmed as the rest of
them, wearing his simple brown leathers and archaic armband around one upper
arm that declared his status, and all the rest of the jeweled and finely bedecked
popinjays faded like wallpaper in the sun. 

Lena glided beside him,
looking fragile and feminine even in what he would forever think of as her
assassin leather.  Some of that was her size; she was not a short woman, but
she was small boned and delicate in her long limbs.  Some was the way she
moved, as if her feet barely touched the ground.  Next to the seven-foot honed
predator beside her, she looked less than threatening, even in her fighting
leathers.  But she was Black Hand, ex-Black Hand, if there was such a thing.  
That meant that,
including
him and his battalion of trained and seasoned
marines, she was the second most dangerous person in the room.  And fuck him if
he didn’t still smell her on his skin, and want more.

Besides the dozen
Alliance marines, The Collector had arranged his own security that he had
informed Jackson about a second before the pre-auction mingle started.  He didn’t
like it then; he liked it less when command over-ruled his argument about
unknowns in this situation in favor of placating The Collector, and looking
around at the black clad “security,” he liked it even less now.  And he was not
the only one.  While most of the gathering were brokering power, Lena and
Cordan had their backs to the wall, and both were looking around the room with
less than thrilled expressions.  Cordan met his eyes across the room and
Jackson opened the communication between them for the first time willingly. 
Are
you seeing what I’m seeing?

But it was Lena who
answered first. 
You mean the fifteen or so hired thugs loose among the
leaders of the free worlds?
Sarcasm was not less annoying when it wasn’t
out loud.

Yeah, that.

I was under the
impression that the Alliance was covering security for this lovely gathering
,
Lo said smoothly into the breach.

We were informed recently
that extra help had been brought in.  I have been ordered to allow it.

Was a reason given?

Jackson gritted his
teeth. 
Not to me.

I am liking this less and
less.

As The Collector and his
Tarelian minion entered, a hush fell over the room.  “Greetings, esteemed
guests,” the Tarelian began, bowing to the crowd while The Collector stood
silently with a small group of black-clad fighters at his back.  “We wish you
to enjoy these next few minutes and excuse the delay.  Your esteemed host would
like to offer a toast for good trade.  From his own coffers, he offers a rare
delicacy of Frotela wine.  Since the fall of that great empire few have tasted
the like.”  More than one murmur of approval went over the heads of the crowd. “Please
begin to move into the auction area while the servers prepare.”  He bowed
again, and the double doors to a second room opened.  The lords and ladies of
the great houses moved towards the doors.  The Collector moved towards Lo
Cordan, but from what Jackson could tell, his eyes were all for Lena.  Jackson
headed in the same direction without thinking about why he was doing it.  He
signaled the men to follow the others.

Lena eyed the black-clad
security following in the wake of the red-robed Collector; she narrowed her
eyes when he got closer, taking in the weird glyphs that shimmered in and out all
over the fabric like a weird holographic decoration. 
What is on his cloak?

She felt Lo’s attention
sharpen beside her. 
What are you seeing?

Lena narrowed her eyes
and tried to catch a better look, but the closer she tried to see, the less
came into view. 
There is some language shimmering in and out in the weave
of the fabric.  Why, what are you seeing?

An ugly red cloak,
Jackson
answered, and she ground her teeth, momentarily distracted by the feel of him
once again in her head.

Lo grunted beside her
while The Collector and his entourage arrived beside them.
  That is all I
see as well.

Huh.
 
She didn’t have a chance to say more before the little pink man started waving
his four arms and talking. 

“The Collector would like
to take this chance to meet your lovely Pletar.”  Lena looked at the Tarelian,
but it was the black eyes of The Collector that met her lavender ones and
widened just a bit. 

The Tarelian stopped
speaking like he was waiting for his lines. The conspicuous silence lasted so
long the little man started to fidget, but The Collector was absorbed in his
discovery.  It was only when he raised his hand to touch her face that she was no
longer standing there and both Lo Cordan and Jackson closed in.  They had all
moved as one without thinking about it, Lena misting back, while Jackson and Lo
moved in from the side.  But it was the Prime who spoke, stepping forward and
forcing The Collector to take a step back, which he did to his own surprise, his
security reacting a hair too slow to do him any good.

“To look at my Pletar is
one thing,” Lo Cordan warned low, the growl in his voice hard through clenched
teeth, his eyes promising nothing less than a slow painful death.  “To touch
her, well, I would not recommend trying that again.”

The Collector stepped
back further, looking less than pleased but with a bow to his head that the
Tarelian quickly followed with a formal apology.  “Of course, our esteemed host
wishes to make apologies.  No offense was meant.”

“Maybe we should just
join the others,” Lena murmured trying to defuse the situation.  Her hands were
resting on the backs of her two men, and she patted them both. 

I have no idea why I
reacted like that
, she thought their way. 
I do not
believe he meant me harm.

I don’t give a fuck what
his intentions were, he shouldn’t have tried to touch. 
Jackson’s
thoughts were almost as angry as Lo’s.

Lena snorted. 
Aren’t
you supposed to be working for him?

She could feel Jackson’s
consternation. 
Fuck.
  He backed up enough that he was not standing with
Cordan quite so obviously.  But she noticed he didn’t move further than arm’s
length, and he didn’t take his eyes off the other group for a minute.

Meanwhile the little man
was still talking.  “Yes, yes, please enjoy our hospitality and join us for a
toast to continued good dealings.”  The man was almost wheedling by the time he
was done; The Collector must have noticed finally because his eyes moved to the
man and the Tarelian cringed like the eyes themselves could burn him.

Cordan smiled his most unfriendly
smile and motioned towards the doors the rest of the room had already entered. 
“Lead the way, and we will follow.”

Without a real choice, The
Collector narrowed his eyes at them, took one last long look at Lena, and led
the way into the other room.  Lo, Jackson, and Lena watched them and waited
long enough that there was a significant space between them and the rest.

“What the fuck is he up
to?” Jackson asked grimly, taking in the servers bustling around the room with
filled crystal goblets.

Lena narrowed her eyes
and watched The Collector and his men take a goblet.  Everyone was waiting for
the toast to begin.  Jackson spoke grim and low into his communicator.  “Any
signs of poison?”

Hearing something in his
communicator, Jackson looked at them and shook his head.  No poison detected. 
Lena noticed that all his men had their backs to a wall.  They were paying as
much attention to the black clad security as they were to the rest of the
jeweled masses.

Lena took a glass from a
passing tray and did not wait to bring it to her lips like the rest of the
polite guests did.  She sipped enough to taste it on her tongue and then spit
it back into the goblet.  Ignoring the shocked looks from the few who had
noticed, she rolled that small taste around her mouth while Lo growled at her
and Jackson cursed. 
I said no poison was detected, but if you suspect
something why the fuck would you drink it?

Black Hand, remember? We’re
trained in poison. 
She could not help the bitterness that
flew his way along with the question.  Or her reaction when he visibly winced
at the reminder.  But they had bigger problems at the moment.  She turned and
gave him serious eyes. 
Jackson, stop the toast.  Anyone who drinks this
wine is going to die in agony.
  She was not about to take any chances, so
she grabbed Lo’s goblet while he was still snarling and dumped both of their
drinks onto the nearest serving tray as it passed.

Fuck!  Are you sure?  Our
sensors show nothing.

Stop the fucking toast!

Jackson pulled his
communicator and sent the message to his men; moving to the center of the room,
he spoke loud enough to be heard in the far corners just as the Tarelian raised
his glass to begin the toast.  Throwing in one lie for expediency sake, “Nobody
drinks! We have a poison detected on the premises.  Please place your glasses
on the nearest surface and exit the room back the way you came in.” 

What about you?
 
His thoughts winged back to Lena even as he and his men started herding shocked
leaders towards the door. 
You drank the fucking wine.

I tasted the wine,
she thought back.  There’s a difference. 
And I’ve tasted it before.  For
whatever reason, I never have a reaction to poison. 
Lena was not going to
tell him how extensive her testing turned when it was discovered she had none
of the mild reactions to the poison tests that the other trainees had.  If
there was a poison that was not tried on her she would be very surprised.  The
one in the room was among the more deadly.  A small sip would kill most in a matter
of seconds, and it was very, very rare.  One of the last they had tried.  Even
the Black Hand had a hard time acquiring this one, especially in the volume
this many people would need.

Escorting the group to
the door stopped abruptly when the doors slammed shut, locking everyone in the
room.  There was a sudden silence when everything came to a halt and then the
sound of swords clearing sheathes was followed by the screams of the crowd. 
The soldiers waded in to protect the dignitaries, and Jackson cursed, pulling
both of his swords and swinging his wrists to loosen his arms when at least
twice as many more black-clad fighters came in through a hidden entrance and
headed straight for the Alpha Prime Commander.

Lena looked around and
noticed that The Collector and his men had disappeared in the crowd, and for
some reason, no one seemed interested in killing her.  Lena smiled and reached
over and took two knives out of Jackson’s sheathed arsenal. 
The Collector
is gone.

No shit,
Jackson said, swinging both swords in lightning fast moves in an out among a
half dozen enemies.  They dropped before they knew they were dead.  Lena took
Cordan’s back as he twisted the head off the first man who reached him with a
bared sword.  Watching Jackson do battle with a sword she knew she was watching
a master at his craft.  Lena tried really hard not to be turned on by that. 
She slashed and twirled through the attackers, while Lo gutted and ripped with
savage roars of pure joy.  She tried not to be turned on by that, too. 

The enemy died despite their
armor, but knives were too slow going when there were this many attackers.  She
took the sword off the next man she killed, and then got serious; they started
to make real progress.  When the last man came at them, ending as bloody pieces
on the floor, they finally had a chance to take stock.  Most of the house lords
were deadly in their own right and had taken care of their share of black-clad
miscreants, and the marines were still cutting a wide swath protecting the
others.  But the number of attackers that lay strewn across the floor looked to
number in the hundreds.

It should have been a
massacre.  Clearly it was meant to be one, either with the poison toast or the
army attacking.

Jackson looked around
grimly, his swords running red with blood still out.  He was doing the math as
well.  He moved towards the last of his fighting men who was starting to
flounder and made short work of his assailant.  Another turned and went for his
back, and Lo was there catching the sword arm with a toothy smile, right before
he ripped the sword and the arm attached to it off.  Even Lena winced a little
at the sucking sound that made, but a breath of air had her dropping down and
turning under the arm that would have come around her neck.  She kicked out the
knee attached to the same body and smiled her own bloodthirsty smile at the
sound.  There was another secret entrance, had to be, and a dozen new bodies
coming right at her.  She heard Cordan roar, and felt Jackson as much as saw
him move for her.  She deposited her long sword in the nearest man’s foot,
nailing him to the floor, and pulled her knife back out.  They were too close
for sword work.