Stunned, Rick strode into the control room, finally managing to shout, “Sensie! Are you getting this? The beacon’s flashing like a sonofabitch.”
“Yes, Captain. I am aware.”
He did a double take, confused by her calm attitude. Then he glared in disbelief. “You set it off?”
“I am the only entity, other than yourself, that can activate it. You set those parameters yourself, remember?”
“Fuck. Why the fuck would you do that? Are you nuts?”
“You were staring at it. Again. As if you wanted it to signal you. And so I made that happen.”
He groaned and lowered himself into his piloting chair. “I almost had a heart attack, for fuck’s sake.”
“That makes sense, since you were thinking about Alexia Montoya again, and she has an inexplicable grip on your heart.”
Rocking back in the chair, he closed his eyes and willed his temper into submission. Then he told the computer, “This is all your fault, you know.”
“That makes no sense, Captain. I did not tell you to have sexual relations with Alexia.”
“Sure you did,” he grumbled. “You said that once TJ slept with her, she’d lose her hold on him. And since she obviously had a hold on me, I followed that same advice. Thanks a lot.”
“You are not TJ Seaton. He has a void in his heart that can never be filled.”
“So do I.” Rick winced and added quickly, “Or let’s just say, I’m not ready to fill it yet. Especially not with someone who needs something I can’t give her.”
“I agree.”
“You do?” He sat up, curious despite himself. “So you don’t think we should go back?”
“No, Captain. I believe that would make your condition worse.”
“My condition?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Can you believe this? We actually should go back to Destry to unload the behemoth. But we can’t do that because I can’t be trusted to stay away from my boss’s girl. So we need to drag the big guy all over the solar system with us, burning fuel and taking up space. It’s almost laughable.”
“Yes, Captain. Even I can see the humor in it.”
“So you got a big kick out of triggering the beacon and watching me jump?” He tried not to laugh, but it was irresistible, so he threw his head back and roared. And it felt good.
And sure, it would have felt even better with Alexia there, enjoying it with him. But he was fine—really fine—with her being where she had to be.
“You are feeling better, Captain?” Sensie asked innocently.
“Yeah. Just don’t do that again. Not ever. That’s an order.”
“Understood.”
He wandered to the control panel and pulled up their most recent course projection. “So we tow the big guy when possible, but stow him when we’re hyper streaming. Which means our cargo space is cut in half. We can fit maybe two more thugs. That’s annoying.”
“And the behemoth’s weight will affect our fuel calculations.”
Rick nodded. He hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed wrangling on these trips, but now, with the prospect of only two or three more hunts over a period of months, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a few tussles even if he couldn’t cash in on them.
He could carry unlimited infodroid skulls, of course, but there would be thugs protecting them, so he’d need to do some serious wrangling in any event.
“I have a suggestion, Captain.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“We should sweep this area one last time, just in case the behemoth was protecting something significant, like a group of nymphs, or even a single nymph with an oversized capacity. But after that, there could well be unexpected opportunity when we reach the asteroid ring.”
Rick laughed. “Other than the opportunity to get pulverized when we try to navigate it?”
Sensie was undeterred. “I have long wondered whether debris from the destruction of Destry and its satellites may have worked its way outward. If so, it is logical we might find some bio-metal trapped in the asteroid ring.”
Rick’s pulse quickened. “That’s brilliant. Why didn’t you mention it sooner? If we can find scraps there, we can fill the spaces in the hull where a thug wouldn’t fit.”
“Precisely. It is only a theory—”
“Yeah, but it makes sense. No human has explored that ring in detail, so small debris could have been overlooked.” He chuckled. “You’ll turn me into a scavenger yet, Sensie. That’s what Alexia called me that first night at dinner. Now it’s coming true.”
“Perhaps you should return to her if she occupies your thoughts so completely,” the computer scolded him. “The asteroid ring is the most dangerous phenomenon in this solar system. You will not be able to navigate it successfully, even with my assistance, if you are daydreaming.”
Rick eyed the monitor fondly. “I’ll get over it soon. She told me point blank she was going to sleep with TJ eventually, then go back through the sinkhole. It hasn’t happened yet, so I can still imagine one last night with her. But in a few days, she’ll either be with TJ or back on Earth. That’s a deal breaker either way. So bear with me, okay?”
“Always, Captain.”
He flashed a genuine smile toward the console. “Thanks, Sensie. You’re the best.”
The tour of Destry never materialized, but Alexia didn’t really mind. TJ’s aversion to traveling in ACTs was actually a comfort, reminding her that his father, David, also feared such travel, whether by ship or, more terrifying, through the dreaded sinkhole. Ironic, since he had funded the discovery and implementation of that phenomenon, and now profited from it at obscene levels.
True to his word, TJ gave her full access to his staff, not just those who worked the platform, but the roughnecks who rotated up from the planet for R&R. She quickly discovered his claims were true. These folks were dying to talk to her. They didn’t just want to share their sinkhole experiences, they wanted to talk about Trent. And Roberto. And Alexia herself. They explained, often haltingly, how the Montoyas had inspired them. Shaped their futures. They had read Kingdom of Geeks and Prince of Geeks dozens of times, internalizing the vision. The dream.
A surprising number of Destry workers had actually met Trent, and Alexia savored those stories most of all. The engineers and astrophysicists who had worked alongside him in the early days of the sinkhole revered him in a special way—like a god, yes, but also as a fallen comrade. Someone who had joked with them, brainstormed with them, built this remarkable place with them.
And so, even after Trent disappeared—even after the engineers and astrophysicists accepted the loss—Trent Montoya lived on in their hearts. In their loyalties. And in their stories. Stories that invariably reduced Alexia to tears. Which made her all the more grateful for her new friends, the bio-girls.
Not a single bio-girl had ever met Trent Montoya, although many of them, especially Lana, swore they would give a nipple just for the honor. Basically, these young women, who weren’t allowed to remain D-side for longer than three years, just wanted to make money, have fun, experience something novel, and forge friendships that would transit the sinkhole with them and last forever.
There had been a time, years ago, when Alexia had had those sorts of friendships. Laughing, teasing, gossiping, confiding. But after Trent’s disappearance, those relationships had dried up, one by one. Some so-called friends had been insensitive, earning themselves a quick dismissal. Others had been inordinately supportive, but eventually, each and every one committed the cardinal sin of whispering in tentative, apologetic whispers that Alexia should move on.
To her humble delight, no worker on the D-side platform felt that way. They got it. Maybe they personally believed Trent was gone, but to his sister, they were nothing but affirming. Not like Rick Gage, maybe, but still, it seemed as though everyone here sincerely craved a miracle when it came to the survival of Trent Montoya.
Was it self-serving? Sure. Every one of these men and women had a sinkhole transit in their future. They needed some hope that rescue was possible, even though none of them really believed it. It was some sort of group delusion, but compared to what Alexia had experienced on Earth, it was heaven.
And so, as she waited for TJ in the Trading Post on the tenth night since her arrival on the platform, she felt complete. She had her best friend back. She had new friends. She finally understood her brother’s vision, at least to an extent. And if she could just convince TJ to give her access to the sentient? Then she would have everything she needed.
And if not, she still had possibilities, thanks to Rick. Romantic possibilities and practical ones. And yes, the romantic fantasies had dominated her free time. Especially at night. Rick appearing in the penthouse doorway for a second one-night stand. Rick assaulting her with passionate affection in the shower. Rick as a tall, handsome wrangler—complete with buckskin coat and riding a pure white stallion—galloping into sight while she innocently tended her father’s vegetable garden at their modest Los Altos home, where he would whisk her up into the saddle and carry her off to Monterey to ravish her on the beach.
He had jump-started her sexual appetite, and she loved him for it. But he had made a practical contribution as well by alerting her to the importance of relays in the design of sentient computers. Maybe she could capitalize on that with the help of Lorenzo Nolo and porn-loving Barbary. She’d be careful, so Sensie’s true identity wasn’t revealed, but still, this was a new path, wasn’t it? Especially if they could recover a discarded relay from Prototype #1. Sure, it had been an abject failure, but the underlying science had been sound. And maybe some wealthy collector had scooped up a component or two for his collection, never realizing the priceless nugget he or she had scored.
She? Alexia grimaced. That’s the danger, right? If Misha got her hands on it, you’re screwed.
But if Misha had done that, Alexia would know by now. They kept tabs on each other due to their contemptuous rivalry, and the scientists at Alexia’s nonprofit research company hated Crosse Enterprises with a white-hot passion.
“Hey!” TJ appeared out of nowhere and planted a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “What’s with the scowl? Did I do something wrong?”
“You’re perfect,” she assured him, pleased he had traded his usual suit and tie for jeans and a navy-blue polo shirt. What a doll. No wonder the bio-girls loved him.
She had wondered at first when they raved about their boss. Were they like Lana, just telling “management” what it wanted to hear? But even Lana adored TJ. The contrast with David the grouch; his even-handed treatment; the generous bonuses he gave them; the lusty way he reached out to every bio-girl more than once during her tenure; the way he had plucked Barbara from their ranks to replace Gabrielle. And last but not least, the way God had gifted him with sexual prowess on a truly gratifying scale.
Alexia always felt a twinge of regret when she heard about that, but the bio-girls raved about Rick too, and also about a handful of other guys. And to their credit, they didn’t judge completely on superficial criteria. Respect and gentleness counted for a lot to them. Of course, once Alexia saw how they used the salt shakers in the Trading Post, stacked one on top of the other, to illustrate a man’s endowment, buttressed by layers of napkins where needed to display girth, she honestly couldn’t take them seriously anymore.
Especially Lana. Unlike Jamie, who wanted an education and some business acumen; or Barbara, an aspiring actress; or even Kai, a people pleaser who had been orphaned as a toddler—Lana just liked men. If she could be paid for that proclivity, even better.
Alexia had no doubt Lana would have been her brother’s favorite had they been D-side at the same time. But Lana only had six months left to her stint, so if Alexia didn’t get moving soon, that hilarious pairing would never take place.
And for the moment, TJ was her primary concern. It was time to end the truce, confident that they had mended every fence, cured every wound, and established a new and stronger bond that would last for the rest of their lives.
“How was your day, Lex?” he asked, sitting across from her and accepting a double shot of whiskey from Kai.
“I had so much fun,” she admitted. Then she took a long drink of her fizzy Cointreau and cranberry and admitted, “We need to talk.”
“It’s only been ten days.”
“A great ten days, but my brother’s waiting. We need to find him.”
TJ’s blue eyes clouded. “I can’t, Lexie. Dad would fire me.”
She studied him closely. “I know you guys don’t get along, but you’re his son. His only heir. This will all be yours someday—”
“He’d fire me. We’d both be deported. And trust me,” he added dryly, “I’d almost welcome it. We could sell your forty-five percent of Sea-Mont and start our own company. The best minds in the world would flock to us, and within ten years, maybe five, the old man would be the proud owner of nothing. But we have to be practical, don’t we?”
Her brain vibrated with confusion. Apparently he had thought this through! He almost sounded as though he wanted it to happen. And a part of her wanted it too. But ten years? Even five was too long. They could build a newer, better company but it wouldn’t have the licenses that controlled the sinkhole.
And it wouldn’t have a sentient computer.
“Don’t look at me that way,” he told her stiffly. “I know it’s not an option.”
She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry, so she took a quick sip of her drink then managed to insist, “It’s an amazing idea. But it would destroy us. You see that, don’t you? He’s your father. You can’t go to war with him. And my entire strategy is to preserve the status quo. Can you imagine if Trent came home only to discover I sold his rights to Sea-Mont? The company he and Dad built?” Her voice started to shake. “And we need the sentient. You see that, don’t you?”
“Fuck the sentient,” he told her, his eyes blazing. “You’re delusional if you think that’s the answer.”
“Just give me one week with it—”
“He’d fire my ass. Aren’t you listening? We’d both be deported. And for what? A fantasy that will never, ever happen?”
“TJ—”
“Goddammit, Alexia.” Pain and anguish erupted in his eyes like waves of hot blue lava. The effect was mesmerizing, maybe even a little scary, and so she stared even though she knew she should be comforting him.
Then without warning he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to her feet. “We’re gonna settle this once and for all.”
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered, trying not to attract attention from the diners and bio-girls.
“I’m hurting you? That’s fucking hilarious,” he said, his tone bitter and unfamiliar. “Let’s go. You wanted to see the fucking computer, so here’s your fucking chance.”
With her heart pounding, she followed him out of the Trading Post and toward Sea-Mont headquarters. No matter how sweetly, plaintively, even stridently she scolded him, begging him to slow down, to stop bullying her, he didn’t respond. By the time they approached the guard’s desk, she gave up and just tried to look casual. The old guy was so sweet she couldn’t bear to alarm him.
More importantly, TJ was taking her to the sentient. As ugly as the circumstances might be, it was still a dream come true.
Once in the elevator, TJ spoke into the holo-screen of his pulse band, saying, “Security, this is TJ Seaton. I’m going to use the sentient, and I’d like some privacy. Disarm all surveillance in the third-floor hallway and make sure no one disturbs me. If you don’t hear from me within an hour, activate the cameras and re-arm all alarms. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Seaton,” a voice replied, its tone so even she assumed this request was standard operating procedure. But she had a feeling it was more than that this time. TJ didn’t want to leave a trail for his father to discover. A trail that would tell David his son and his nemesis had visited the sentient together.
She couldn’t agree more with TJ’s strategy.
They exited the elevator, then he strode ahead of her, down a side hall and then to a long, wide passageway across the back of the building that dead-ended with a brick wall. Halfway down the hall on the right was a single steel door.
Oh my God…
She could barely breathe. Barely think. Was this really happening? After all these years?
“TJ—”
“Not a word,” he told her, his voice menacing. “Let’s just get this the fuck over with.”
As Alexia held her breath, TJ stepped up to the sensor pad on the wall and placed his palm firmly against it, while simultaneously looking into an eye scan and speaking his name slowly and distinctly.
“Is this really happening?” she whispered, numb with anticipation.
The door slid open, silent and efficient, and then TJ stepped aside, his expression now calm. Almost gentle. “Go on.”
She wanted to thank him. Maybe even agree to marry him. But she couldn’t spare the time, so she touched his jaw with her fingertips, then slipped by him. Every inch of the room was white, save for a border of blue lights around a huge monitor, also pure white. Despite the absence of color, the place seemed to shimmer an ethereal shade of blue, as though bio-metal lurked there, just under the surface, straining to burst into the light.
“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered reverently.
“It’s a computer,” TJ corrected her. Then he raised his voice. “Computer?”
“Welcome back, Mr. Seaton.”
“I’ve brought someone with me. Alexia Montoya. The most important person in the world to me, so treat her accordingly.”
“Welcome, Ms. Montoya,” the computer said, its tone mechanical and soothing. Not unlike a highly efficient customer service robot.
“Hi computer,” she replied, silently congratulating Rick Gage for imbuing personality into something which, by design, should have been mechanical. If Sensie’s “glitches” had made her a robust, vibrant entity, then wasn’t she the most successful of the four prototypes?
“How can I serve you?” the computer asked.
“Ms. Montoya thinks you can help her rescue her brother from the sinkhole,” TJ replied. “Any thoughts?”
Alexia exhaled sharply. This was it. Or at least, the first step toward “it”. And she wanted to get off on the right foot, so she told the computer, “I want you to share any and every thought or theory, computer. No matter how far-fetched. We’re brainstorming here, okay? There’s no wrong answer, just infinite possibilities.”
A moment of silence ensued, then the computer told her flatly, “Trent Montoya perished in the sinkhole six years, two months and eighteen days ago by Earth standard measure.”
“That’s the rumor,” she agreed. “And I know it’s the prevalent theory. But there are other possibilities—”
“There are no other possibilities, Ms. Montoya. Your brother is dead.”
“That’s enough, computer,” TJ murmured. “She gets the point.”
“No! Let him talk. We’re brainstorming here,” she repeated, trying not to panic. “Okay, computer. You’re saying there aren’t any other possibilities, but let’s talk theory. Parallel planes, intersecting sinkholes, time suspension—”
“Your brother is dead,” the computer repeated. “The only question is, did he die instantly? Or did he suffocate slowly—”
“That’s enough!” TJ barked, pulling Alexia into a protective embrace.
She was sure he would escort her away now, but he surprised her by addressing the computer again. “Computer?”
“Yes, Mr. Seaton?”
“When was the last time you and I ran scenarios about Trent Montoya’s disappearance? Ms. Montoya thinks I abandoned the search too quickly, so be precise.”
“It was eleven days, four hours, twelve minutes ago, Mr. Seaton.”
Alexia’s knees weakened with confusion. “What? Explain that, computer.”
“Mr. Seaton asked me to re-run the parallel plane scenarios. It was accomplished quickly, since they were discredited years ago by Trent Montoya himself.”
“Parallel planes?” Alexia turned her grateful gaze toward TJ. “You did that after Rick’s computer made the suggestion?”
TJ’s eyes were bluer than ever, thanks to a misting of tears. “He was my best friend.”
“Oh my God. Poor wonderful you.” She covered his face with kisses. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked.”
“Oh God,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around his waist, then resting her cheek on his chest. Emotions clashed in her tortured heart. Gratitude to TJ. Fear over the computer’s dismissive attitude. Confusion as to what she should do now.
“We need to go, Lexie,” he murmured into her hair. “Every minute we spend here puts you in jeopardy. Puts both of us in jeopardy.”
“You asked security to give us an hour. I have more questions, TJ.”
“You’re going to get me fired.”
She could see from his expression that he was honestly panicked, and probably regretting having trusted her to this extent. So she nodded. “We can come back later. Maybe after dinner.”
He stared down at her, his expression wistful. “I don’t know how to respond to that. You promised you’d give up if I let you talk to it—”
“Not just talk to it. Work with it. Brainstorm—”
“Ms. Montoya?”
The computer’s interruption startled her, but she took it as a good sign. Maybe it wanted to keep talking too. “Yes?”
“Your only logical choice is to listen to Mr. Seaton.”
She stared at the monitor. “How dare you say that. My brother built you and this is the thanks he gets?”
“That’s enough, computer,” TJ warned. “Not another word.” He turned weary eyes to Alexia. “Let’s get some dinner, shall we?”
They reached the elevator in silence, and she wasn’t surprised when he pushed the button for the fifth-floor penthouse. He didn’t want anyone at the Trading Post to see them this way, and she agreed. They weren’t fighting, or at least not exactly. But they reeked of exhaustion and disharmony. Hardly the right mood for management to project.
Once inside the penthouse, she flopped onto the couch and told him, “I’m not hungry, but I guess we should eat. And that soup they were cooking smelled good. Maybe with some crusty bread?”
“I’ll have it sent up.” He studied her for a moment, then surprised her by reaching for remote control and activating the photographic array of Trent, bizarrely immortalized in holographic and digital form.
She had loved it the first few times, finding it inspiring and optimistic. Now it felt lifeless, almost maudlin. “Not now, TJ,” she murmured without thinking.
His expression hardened. “You can be a brat sometimes.”
Surprised, she tried for a soothing tone. “Leave it on if it makes you feel better.”
“I took you to the sentient, and it told you what you needed to hear. You said the truce is over and I agree. It’s time to settle this thing between us before we start backsliding.” He walked over to her and sat at her side. “We made a commitment to each other, didn’t we? To mend the rift, and make sure it stayed mended. There’s only one way to do that. You need to marry me. We’ll build a new dynasty together. One that will feel like a memorial to Trent and Roberto. What’s so wrong with that?”
Before she could respond, he took her hand in his own. “Marry me. Get rid of the nonprofit. I’ll convince Dad to give us back your five percent as a wedding present. We can be happy, Lexie.”
“TJ—”
“We’ll go home together. Find someone else to run this stupid platform while I manage the company from New York. Or San Francisco if you’d prefer that.”
“Wait!” She gripped his hand tightly. “I have a better idea. I’ll give you my share of the company. All of it.”
He drew back as though she had zapped him with a taze stick. “I never asked you for that.”
“I know.” She moistened her lips, stunned by the magnitude of this idea, which had sprung out of nowhere but now seemed so right. “You can have my forty-five percent, but only on the condition that you give it back to Trent, if and when he comes home. Until then, it’s yours.” She felt her pulse begin to race. “Don’t you see? Your father would have to respect you then. He wouldn’t dare fire you. Maybe he’d even be so grateful to you for getting me out of his hair, he’d retire and sign everything over to you.”
His words were hushed. “Where is this coming from?”
“It was your idea in a way.” She steadied her voice, hoping for the perfect blend of affection and business acumen. “Remember when you said we could sell my part of the company and build a new one of our own? I could never do that. Never sell Trent’s birthright to a stranger. But to you? It feels so right, TJ.”
She could see the haze in his eyes, and knew his mind was reeling. But once it all sunk in, he’d be thrilled, wouldn’t he?
Then he drawled, “Let me guess. You’ll do this in exchange for unlimited access to the sentient? Nice move, Lexie. Maybe you’re the real genius of the family after all.”
“TJ, don’t.” She stood and walked to the wall of windows, then looked out over the platform, her heart aching. “I want to talk to the sentient one more time. If I can’t get him to brainstorm with me, then I’m not sure what I’ll do next. It’s—well, it’s a setback.”
He came up behind her, his voice warm in her ear. “A setback? In other words, even when you hit the ultimate dead end, you won’t stop? Are you listening to yourself?” Turning her toward him, he gave her a forgiving smile. “I’m offering to marry you. Build a life with you. Make love to you, raise kids with you, give you everything in the world. I don’t want your forty-five percent. I want you.”
“And I want you too. As my best friend. My rock. Now that we’re back together, I’ll never let you go.” Her voice caught in her throat. “But I can’t marry you. I was crazy to think we could even have sex after all this time. I’ve grown up. I love you, but like a brother, not a lover.”
“Like a brother?” His upper lip curled into a snarl. “When was the last time you gave your brother a hand job?”
She pulled away, horrified, and wrapped her arms around her torso, feeling unprotected. Almost naked.
“Lexie—”
“Don’t. Just don’t,” she repeated sharply when he reached for her again.
“I’m sorry, Lex. I swear it.”
She choked on an indignant sob. “I can’t do this now. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“Just stay away from me.” She strode to the doorway, praying he wouldn’t follow.
And to his credit, he stayed put, but called after her mournfully, “I’m sorry, Alexia. Please forgive me.”
Tears were streaming down her face, and without turning around she knew he was weeping too. She couldn’t bear to look at him, not yet. But she managed to assure him, “I already forgive you. Because I love you, even though you’re a stupid jerk. So try to get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning.”
Until now, she had found comfort in Trent’s penthouse. The clean lines, the Spartan ambience, the complete absence of clutter. But tonight there was no trace of her brother here. It was a cold, dark, deserted world, much like Destry, and exactly like David Seaton. The coldest, darkest, most deserted human on either side of the sinkhole.
Her words to TJ rang in the air.
I already forgive you.
How could she not? He had been raised by a hideous, soulless demon who never gave his son even a taste of what he needed. Love. Family. Some connection to the pure, meaningful core of humanity. Sensie—a glitchy computer—had called that one right, hadn’t she? TJ needed to fill the void, but it could never really be filled. Not completely. But if he hoped for even a semblance of a rewarding existence, he needed Alexia.
Thoughts of Sensie and Rick brought the first wave of hope she had felt in hours. They would take care of her. Would bundle her off in the Drifter and distract her with insults and lovemaking and adventure. Rick would tell her what she needed to hear. He’d say the Sea-Mont sentient was wrong to resist her efforts. It was an amazing machine, but was it infallible? No. The idea that it wouldn’t engage, even on a theoretical level, reflected badly on it, and did not mean Alexia’s quest had ended.
Rick would say all the right things. Do all the right things. Strong arms, demanding mouth, powerful reminders of how alive they could feel together. She had tried to be strong. Tried to pretend their night together could be enjoyed and then dismissed. But it wasn’t true.
She craved him now, even knowing she couldn’t have him. Because as much as she needed to be with him, he needed to be away from her. He couldn’t afford a relationship, much less one with a train wreck like Alexia Montoya. He had traveled millions of miles—literally—to escape those kinds of ties.
Smart move, cowboy, she told him sadly as she climbed into David Seaton’s bed. I wish I could escape too. But with you. Not alone. I’m so, so tired of being alone.
She tossed and turned, dreaming the dreams of a defeated woman. The most vivid took place at her family’s home in Los Altos. She had had this one many times, where she was a child cowering in her bedroom as the house blazed with a raging fire around her. She couldn’t get the door open. Couldn’t get the window open, even though her father, her mother and her brother were shouting instructions to her. She was roasting alive and they were powerless to help her.
Awaking in a salty sweat, she knew her only hope was to get off this platform. She could beg TJ to send her back through the sinkhole in exchange for her forty-five percent of the company. He’d go for it, wouldn’t he? She hadn’t imagined the flash of greed in his eyes when she first suggested it. He wanted that kind of power so much he could taste it.
Or she could locate Zeke Angelus—a.k.a. the smuggler—and buy her way back to Earth. She couldn’t use Gabrielle Rousseau as her intermediary, since the communications director was reportedly off-platform for a training exercise on Destry. But surely Lana would know how to contact the black market. And if not Lana, then maybe Barbara? She was competent and well-informed, thanks to her position as TJ’s secretary. And she clearly felt threatened by Alexia, knowing that if TJ ever married the Montoya heiress, Barbara’s position as mistress would crash and burn.
So Barbara, as suspicious and standoffish as she had seemed, was an ally of sorts. Maybe even better than the mysterious Gabrielle, so famous for her beauty but also for her masochistic tendencies, exemplified by her willingness to let TJ Seaton screw her, over and over, in every possible sense.
The smuggler can get you home safely. Or if you dared, you could ask him to contact Rick. Get him to come for you. Hide you. Take you to Sector Fourteen. Save you from yourself.
None of it made sense and so, when a soft knock sounded at the door, and she knew it was TJ, she didn’t hesitate for a second. If they were really family, they needed to turn toward each other, not away. And definitely not against.
So she hastily dressed herself in jeans and a loose T-shirt, then went to the door to let him in.
A thousand possibilities had run through her head, but this TJ who stood before her now was different, with an aloof sadness she had never seen, not in anyone. Not even in the mirror.
“Hi,” she said warily. “Are you okay?”
He took a deep breath. Then exhaled. Then exhaled again.
Finally, he said simply, “I have bad news.”
“Oh God.” She took his hand and pulled him into the living room, refusing to believe it was about Rick. The Drifter. Sensie. Or even David Seaton, as much as she hated him. “Tell me.”
“We lost someone in the sinkhole. I’m so sorry, Lexie.”
“What?” She shook her head, refusing to accept his words. For all the images that had run through her mind—the Drifter damaged in a thug battle; David clutching his heart, his eyes rolling up into his skull; the Titans awakening with a furious attack—this had never even skirted her imagination. “Someone from the platform? Or from E-side?”
TJ hesitated, then touched her cheek. “It was Jamie, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
“Jamie?” She drew back, confused. Almost certain she was still dreaming. This didn’t make sense. Jamie wasn’t scheduled to leave for another seven months. “You’re wrong,” she told him bluntly.
“Come here.” Enveloping her in strong arms and sympathy, he murmured, “It happened last night. She got word her father was dying. She left within minutes. No time to say goodbye. Not to anyone. And then…” His voice swelled with pain and passion. “Damn that godforsaken sinkhole to hell.”