Afterburn

A na Hansen was already awake when she felt the sleeping platform depress and reshape itself on the empty side, but she kept her eyes closed and her body still. She could feel the exhaustion weighing down her lover’s body, dulling the sharp edges of his highly analytical mind. She also knew why he felt the way he did.

It was times like these that she was glad she could sense other people’s emotions, mental states, and often their thoughts. She would wait until he fell asleep, and then she would slip out of bed and dress for her work shift.

Ana rolled over and looked into William Mayer’s face. Morning sunslight wasn’t kind to his weathered face or thinning silver hair. Luckily, she didn’t adore him for his outward appearance. “You ruined my plan.”

She had already taken four signals from her colleagues on the pending Peace Summit, but she only nodded and snuggled up beside him. “I was going to attack you as soon as you fell asleep.”

“Don’t be gentle.” He moved her onto his chest and dropped his head back against the pillows. “Whatever pain you inflict, I probably deserve it.”

“I fully intended to be here in time to take you to whatever reception we had scheduled,” he said, and released a sigh. “Right before the relief cutter reported for duty, my nurse brought back a neck injury. Turned out to be a reconstruct who had tried to refit his cranial case mounts and cut four inches into his own brain stem. When I walked out of surgery, it was daylight.”

Ana’s medical knowledge was basic, but she knew reconstructs only had a brain and a short length of spinal tissue. The remainder of their bodies were constructed, mechanized alloy chassis that provided physical support for the organic parts. “Were you able to save him?”

“No, I lost him three hours in. There was simply too much wound area to repair, and the damaged cells were dying faster than we could regenerate them.” His dark eyes filled with self-disgust. “I should have—”

“Shhh.” She pressed her fingertips against his mouth. “You did what you could. You always do.” She stroked his brow. “Go to sleep.”

Ana’s first meeting that day was scheduled to begin in ten minutes. She knew it would take her three to dress and five more to drive to her office. Then there were the briefs to read over, a thousand more details to coordinate for the Peace Summit, and signals to send and receive. She should have left for work thirty minutes ago.

Instead, she nodded and stayed where she was, her cheek pressed over Liam’s heart, and listened as the strong, heavy beat slowed. Only when his breathing became deep and regular and his grip loosened did she ease out of his arms and slip from the bed, touching the form control on her side so that it mimicked the shape of her body.

She hated leaving him like this, as much as she hated coming home to an empty dwelling. Yet when her shift was over, he likely would be back at the hospital, operating on someone else.

It won’t have to be this way forever. As Ana put on her makeup, she calculated the remainder of her tenure on the Colonial Council. In another cycle someone else would be elected to take her place, and then she would have more time for herself. Once the surgeons quadrant had recruited transferred in, Liam would have fewer professional demands. That would be the time to really start talking about what direction to take with their future. . . .

Ana jerked her tunic over her head. She had to be realistic. From the beginning of their relationship, they had been forced to make appointments simply to see each other. Thinking to give them more personal time, Liam had agreed to move into her quarters, but their shifts seldom coincided so they were hardly ever home at the same time. Simply sharing a meal or a conversation proved a daily challenge.

Ana loved Liam, but she was under no illusions about where she stood in his life. First there was preserving the health and welfare of everyone else on colony, then came time with her. She couldn’t even blame him for it, as her attitude toward her own responsibilities was the same. Colony business always came first, her personal relationships second. Their mutual attitudes were realistic, direct, and perhaps even admirable.

Ana signaled her office to tell her assistant that she was going to be late, but there was no answer. Carsa, a Triburrin who had recently undergone transgendering to become a male, had never been late before. Naturally he would be today, the one day she needed him at the console to juggle the endless stream of signals and data coming in about the Peace Summit.

Maybe Carsa decided to linger in bed with his new mate. Ana smiled to herself, picked up her data case, and quietly let herself out the front door panel.

As she drove to Colonial Administration, Ana considered what life would have been like for her if her first love, Elars, had not been killed. They had been so young when they mated, and Elars had had very definite ideas about their future.

“I know Terran females are much more independent than those of my species, but I would like my mate to devote herself to being our family caregiver,” Elars had said. “Does that make me a terrible prospect as a husband?”

At the time Ana had been happy to throw herself into the traditional role of a Venyaran mate: caring for their home, preparing their meals, and looking forward to bearing their young and raising them. Elars had died before he could give her children, however, and in her grief the only solace Ana had was in finding a job on a newly established multispecies colony, far from the world she and Elars had loved.

When Ana arrived on K-2, she had thrown herself into her work, allowing it to fill her every waking hour. Now it had become her life, and it was forcing the man she loved as much as Elars to take second place to it.

Ana saw that she was more than a quarter hour late by the time she reached her office, and as a result rushed to get to her console. “I don’t have time for coffee this morning, Carsa,” she said as she hurried by the front desk.

Ana came to a complete halt and stared at the being sitting behind her assistant’s desk. “You’re not.” She hesitated and peered through the shadows. Whoever it was, it was humanoid, and possibly female. “Were you Carsa?”

“Lights.” Ana felt her heart sink as the overhead emitters illuminated the unsmiling face of a young female. A very young, attractive female.

“I’m not actually scheduled to begin until tomorrow, but I thought I would stop in on my way to orientation,” the young woman said in a mellow, pleasant voice. She offered her hand. “You must be Administrator Hansen.”

Ana shook her hand and was vaguely startled to realize that here was one of the rare humans from whom she could pick up no emotions or thoughts whatsoever. “Come into my office.” When they were inside, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Let’s see, where to start . . .”

What was Jurek-sa thinking, replacing Ana’s extremely personable assistant with this child from her unpleasant homeworld? Surely he remembered how horrible most Terrans were. With the Peace Summit only a few rotations away, the last thing Ana needed now was a new office assistant.

“Perhaps I should give you a quick overview of your duties.” Maybe that would scare the girl enough to send her running for the next transport back to their homeworld.

“That won’t be necessary. According to the slot profile, I will be acting as your personal assistant, coordinating your schedule, communications, and data flow,” the new assistant stated. “My other duties include processing pertinent information relating to new transfers, existing residents and, for the next interim, Colonial Council business. I have been cleared with a T-5 security rating.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Are there any additional duties of which I have not been made aware?”

“We’re about to conduct a multispecies, interplanetary Peace Summit. In orbit.” Ana watched her expression, but it proved as unreadable as her thoughts. “Perhaps you haven’t realized this, but you’ve transferred to a planet populated and frequented mainly by aliens.”

The younger woman didn’t bat an eyelash. “I knew K-2’s colony was a multispecies settlement prior to making my transfer application.”

“You are Terran, aren’t you?” Sometimes crossbreeds deliberately hid their alien characteristics so they could pass better as purebloods, although generally that practice was only so they could maintain permanent residence on the homeworld. With the exception of a few species that preferred to keep their gene pools unsullied, nobody off Terra much cared what mixture of DNA anyone else had.

Light brown eyebrows arched. “Born and raised on Terra; certified 100 percent pure human-blooded via DNA scans, which I was given every year since gradetech. I can provide data verification, of course, if you’d like to review my disks.”

“It seemed a desirable destination. Administrator, if my being human presents any difficulty for this office, please feel free to request my transfer to another department.” The new assistant made a graceful gesture. “I will not be offended.”

Now that was a nice way to turn this whole thing around so that it was Ana’s personal problem. She felt a grudging respect for the polite yet straightforward way she had done it, too.

“Since you’re being frank, I’ll do the same. We have only seventeen Terrans residing on K-2, and with the exception of you, me, Dr. Mayer from the FreeClinic, and Dr. Selmar from the Underwater Research Dome, none of them were raised on the homeworld.” Ana smiled to take some of the unhappy emphasis off the last word. “Most of us have or have had alien mates.”

Ana was beginning to admire her unshakable demeanor. It was truly a shame the girl was a Terran; she had the makings of an excellent diplomat. “You may see yourself as having the type of intrepid or pioneering spirit capable of handling so much alien interaction, but . . . may I be frank?”

Ana tried to think of something a Terran would consider horrific. “I can’t have an assistant who screams the first time a slime-coated Rilken slides a sticky tendril up her skirt to see what she has under it.”

“Should I find myself in such circumstances, I would gently discourage the Rilken,” her new assistant told her. “I never scream.” She tilted her head. “Do you dislike other Terrans, Administrator?”

“No. My best friend is a Terran. So is my lover.” She sighed. “They are the exceptions. It’s true that I don’t think much of homeworld Terrans. Or their prejudices.”

“Most Terrans assume any member of our species who mates with an alien is a sexual deviant who should not be allowed near small Terran children.” Mild eyes moved to inspect the wedding photoscan on Ana’s desk. “Should I make that assumption about you, based solely on what I’ve been told?”

“Then perhaps you will extend the same courtesy to me.” She rose. “It is near time for me to report for new transfer orientation. Please feel free to contact Administrator Jurek-sa and request another assistant, if you so desire.” She gave Ana a polite smile and slipped quietly out of the room.

Ana was tempted to call after her, but instead prepared for her meeting over at security. She couldn’t run a background check on the young Terran woman, much less request Jurek-sa give her a reassignment.

“I was picked up at the beach after I’d been diving,” he told the chief of K-2’s colonial security forces. “If you’d like me to report dry and in uniform, try having your officers pick me up when I’m actually on duty.”

Norash idly used his extended nasal appendage to scratch a spot on his thick yellow-and-brown-streaked hide. “What I meant was, to be more precise, that I thought you were hydrophobic, Major.”

“I was.” A few months ago Shon’s fear of the water didn’t allow him within a hundred yards of an ocean. “I got over it.”

“Maybe you’d care to share your secret.” Norash nodded toward the Trytinorn compound on the outskirts of the colony. “My mate can’t convince our son to bathe more than twice a week.”

“Is he an adolescent?” At the chief’s nod, Shon suggested, “Try bribery. Some with a great deal of sucrose or some other tooth-decaying substance he’s not permitted to have very often.”

“May I never have to repair the teeth of your children.” Norash’s floor groaned slightly as he shifted position, coming around his console and inspecting the data displayed on his terminal. “You’ve heard about the Skartesh?”

“Administration tells me that they’ve decided they won’t speak to—or through—anyone but you.” Norash checked the time. “Ana Hansen was supposed to join us for this briefing, but she’s late. Blasted civilians never can keep to a proper schedule.”

Shon wasn’t fooled by the Trytinorn’s attempt at camaraderie. “Whatever you or Admin have in mind, the answer is no.”

Norash eased his hindquarters into a special harness that allowed him to remove some of the weight from his legs—the Trytinorn equivalent of a chair—and gave Shon a mild look. “That’s a fairly adamant statement, considering what you were willing to do before the cult was disarmed.”

“My assignment to impersonate Rushan Amariah was over as soon as the invasion of Ninra was defeated,” Shon reminded him. “While my SEAL augmentations cannot be reversed, and I will resemble a Skartesh for the remainder of my life, I have no valid reason or motive to continue playing a role for the cult.” He looked up as a fair-haired Terran female entered the office. “Administrator Hansen.”

“I do apologize for being late. This has been one of those mornings.” Ana handed each a disk. “Copies of the Skartesh Elders’ latest communication. Text only, I’m afraid; the compound has disabled their audio and video.” She gracefully arranged herself on the edge of one of the chief’s oversized chairs. “To give you the short version, the cult has decided to maintain their position on the separatism issue. They’ve also elected you, Major, as their species representative and colonial liaison, effective immediately.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “I was hoping you’d accept the position, at least on a temporary basis. You were the main reason our mental health counselors were so successful in helping to deprogram and reeducate the cult after the invasion. It was also your idea to have the Skartesh make amends to the Hlagg.”

Since a Skartesh riot accidentally released thousands of different Hlagg insect life-forms from their sealed embassy into K-2’s biosphere, the Hlagg and the Skartesh had been working together to track and contain as many of the insects as possible. The Hlagg’s unique symbiotic relationship with their insects enabled them to control the tiny creatures through vocal intonation, but on their homeworld they had never been obliged to hunt them.

Shon had been the one to suggest to the dismayed Hlagg ambassador and the embarrassed cult Elders that the Skartesh, with their highly developed senses of smell and hearing, might serve as excellent scouts. Over the last several weeks, the cult’s best hunters had been out tracking for the Hlagg, and many thousands of the escaped insects had been successfully recovered.

“These people meant enough for you to risk your life, several times, to save their species,” Norash put in. “Surely those feelings haven’t changed.”

“That was an assignment.” Shon gritted his teeth. “I may look Skartesh, but I am oKiaf. The cult is not my responsibility, and I am hardly qualified to act as their leader in anything.”

“We’d be willing to give you all the support you need, Major,” Ana said. “The final decisions would not be left in your hands.”

Which meant more deliberate manipulation of the cult by K-2’s well-intentioned governing body; something Shon violently opposed. “I am not Skartesh. I can’t represent them.”

“There is no specific rule that a rep/liaison must be a native of the species they represent,” Ana told him. “Nor is there any requirement on service duration.”

He glared at her. “Is there a rule about how much harassment an undercover intelligence officer has to take from bureaucrats wishing to control a group of traumatized refugees?”

“All of us appreciate how complicated your former assignment made things for you here,” Chief Norash said. “That does not negate the fact that we still harbor over seventy thousand Skartesh on this planet. Seventy thousand beings who tried to commit mass suicide only a short time ago, and who still largely consider you their preferential Messiah.”

“I have—very patiently, and with great detail—explained what I did, and why, to the Elders of the cult.” Shon turned to Ana Hansen. “I don’t know what they’ve convinced themselves of now, but at the time they understood that I am not a member of their species and that I was never ‘chosen’ to do anything but act a part in order to protect the cult, and to keep them from attacking the occupied worlds in this system.”

“Religious beliefs are ever-evolving,” Ana Hansen suggested. “When Rushan Amariah’s parents were executed for their actions against the Skartesh, and you were revealed as an undercover operative, the cult lost all its leadership. I can’t say for sure, Major, but I believe they are desperate to find new focus. Because of your efforts on their behalf, in the past and the present, they believe that you were sent to save them.”

“It doesn’t matter where you came from to them. They want to consult with you on matters of vital importance to the future of the Skartesh. They refuse to have anything to do with anyone else, except the Hlagg.” Ana’s wristcom chirped, and she frowned. “It appears I have an emergency situation I have to attend to.” She rose and smiled at Norash and then Shon. “Please reconsider, if you would, Major. You could be a tremendous help to a very frightened species. Chief, I’ll signal you later. Excuse me.”

Once the administrator had departed, Norash secured the door panel and put the room panel controls on maximum security.

“That’s not why I’m sealing up the room.” Norash pulled up an assignment file and turned his viddisplay so that Shon could read it. “I received three inquiries from PQMI yesterday as to your current assignment status, workload dispersement, and location.”

Quadrant Intelligence knew exactly where Shon was, and what he was doing. “I’m scheduled to begin flying medevac with the Bio Rescue program.”

Tension was beginning to knot the muscles in Shon’s neck. “They shouldn’t. I put in for a permanent transfer to K-2’s planetary patrol squadron as soon as the deprogramming of the cult was completed.”

“Your application must have been misplaced, then. PQMI is basically asking when they should date your orders for your transfer back to oKia.”

“oKia.” Shon blinked. “I was never stationed on my homeworld, and it’s never been under any threat of invasion.” Had that changed? Were his parents in danger?

“Let me make one thing utterly transparent.” Norash removed a disk from his terminal and handed it to Shon. “You did not receive this data from me, Major.”

Shon examined the disk. It was unmarked and the recording terminal ID tag had been deliberately erased. Bootlegged. “Understood.”

“On that disk you’ll find details about a recent attack on the oKiaf planetary patrol. The mercenaries were repelled and destroyed. This is all public knowledge. What isn’t generally known is that one of the Faction’s assassins was able to slip through the security grid during the firefight and land on-planet. He went directly to Central Intelligence during a shift with minimal night staffing, infiltrated the building, and blew it, along with himself, into orbit. Forty officers were killed, including Horvon Jala.”

Horvon Jala had been Shon’s superior officer in Intelligence from the beginning. It had been Jala’s idea to alterform the young oKiaf officer to double for Rushan Amariah. He had trained Shon, and then personally supervised the Skartesh infiltration operation from oKia. Aside from Shon’s own father, Jala had been the most influential male in his life.

It was not the loss of a fine officer that hurt. The pain of knowing how the old man had been murdered cut deep, like an Omorr blade in a skilled hand.

“There has been a system-wide shutdown to control the flow of information, so the enemy does not know just how successful their assassin was. Quadrant will likely send a signal as soon as they reorganize oKia Intelligence and cut your orders.”

Norash nodded. “As rapidly as possible, and they’re looking for a replacement for Jala. My sources tell me that your name is on top of the list.” His expression darkened. “Apparently you have more experience than is listed on your service records. Along with undercover infiltration, Jala was in charge of all quadrant prisoner special interrogations.”

“Jala and my father served in the prisons; I never did.” Shon thought of his sire, and how his brief military experience had scarred him. “I enlisted as an undercover field agent, not an interrogator. I would not follow in my father’s tracks.”

“There are rumors about your species. Nothing concrete, you understand, but word cycles around. Prisoners talk about secret chambers, and tell stories about hearing important captives being beaten to death one night only to reappear with no wounds the next morning.”

The Trytinorn regarded him steadily. “If you are what I think you are, then your reassignment will not come through as a request. Intelligence will yank you out of here faster than you can say ‘Messiah.’ ”

“Had I the sort of talent for Jala’s kind of work, I likely would have joined an all-male cloister in the most remote portion of the rainforest on Trytin,” the chief said. “Or, perhaps, ended it before someone could force me into doing something I personally found revolting. If that were possible.”

“I’ll run interference for you for as long as I can. But make no mistake, Major. I’m in charge of security for one colony. The people who will be coming for you are responsible for thousands of worlds. If it comes to a shoving match, I will lose, and you will go.”

“I won’t let it come to that, Chief.” Shon stood and began to salute before he dropped his arm. “This has nothing to do with military business. For this, I now consider you a friend.”

“The friend of an oKia warrior need never go hungry, or hunt alone, or sleep without an eye to watch his back,” Norash said. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

“We also share our females,” Shon informed him, “but given the differences in our sizes, that would likely not go well for them, or us.”

“My mate would find it novel. I would be too busy trying not to step on any woman of yours.” Norash uttered an amused sound before his expression sobered. “Valtas, you have my eyes at your back. Keep yours there as well. They will be coming for you.”

“We’re prepared to return to the surface, Dr. Selmar,” the blub-headed humanoid said. “You wanted to speak to me about some problem before we left?”

Teresa Selmar wanted to yell at the reconstruction site manager, Pridsan, but she settled for another visual survey of the Underwater Research Dome’s upper deck. The damages to K-2’s first subaqua science facility didn’t trouble her as much as what had caused them, or how they were being repaired.

The wall of transparent plas, which admitted half of their natural light, was an important feature of the URD. Land-dwelling scientists from K-2’s colony had never had an opportunity to dwell among the ’Zangians in their element, and they expected to learn a great deal more about the aquatics via observation through the dome’s walls.

Pridsan, a squat Farradonan whose shape resembled that of a Terran who had been compressed into the form of a block, gave her a belligerent look. “Doctor, these panels are identical to the ones that were originally installed.”

Teresa tapped her short fingernails against the new plas. “Those would be the panels that cracked and threatened to collapse in on us after the three mogshrike attacked the dome.”

“It was one mogshrike, according to the reports I reviewed,” the blocky humanoid told her. “The other two were attacking the natives. Besides, I find it very hard to believe that three ’shrikes would attack the URD simultaneously. I’ve worked on this planet for thirty revolutions, and we know those monsters always swim rogue. They’d probably devour each other before they’d hunt cooperatively.”

Most of the colonists believed the same thing, because that was how it had always been with ’shrikes. Up until the day Teresa had opened the URD.

“I was here when it happened, Pridsan, and I can count. Trust me, we had three of them.” Teresa recalled the terror she had felt, standing helpless on the inside of the dome as one of the ’shrikes slammed its massive head into the viewer panels. The mental image of that gaping maw, lined with all those jagged teeth, still made her stomach clench. “We’re expecting members of the Peace Summit to pay a visit to the URD. I’m not going to have substandard materials cause an interplanetary incident.”

“Whatever drew the ’shrike to attack was an aberration, and there’s nothing I can do about that. Maybe you should call off the visitation.” Pridsan scowled at one of the staff researchers, who stood talking to a pair of his workers. From their gestures, it was obvious that they, too, were discussing the integrity of the viewer panels. “Maybe you should tell these diplomats to stay on their ship.”

“That should contribute mightily to the peace process,” Teresa said. “How should I phrase it? ‘Welcome to K-2, stay the hell out of our sea?’ ”

“If you think that will work.” Pridsan expelled some air. “Look, Doctor, my people and I are slotted to break ground on the new outpatient facility over at the FreeClinic tomorrow. This site hasn’t been allocated any more time or alternate materials, so we’re done here. There’s nothing more I can do for you.”

The Farradonan shifted his I beam-shaped shoulders. “Make your case with the construction code office, or petition the council.”

“That will take weeks, maybe months.” Teresa thought for a minute. “What about the Department of Colonial Construction? Wouldn’t they have something to say about the safety issue?”

Pridsan regarded the plas wall. “OCS approved your original design as safe. They gave us the schematics they had on database so that we could rebuild according to them. They won’t red-flag this site as unsafe. It will have to be the facility manager here.”

“Then you decide whether to shut it down or continue on until you can have better replacement materials approved. I do wish you luck with it.” Pridsan went over to his workers and exchanged a few words with them before escorting them out to the air lock. The researcher gave Teresa an exasperated look before returning to her station.

“I know just how you feel,” she muttered before striding into her office to start composing her council petition.

Half an hour into justifying the expenditure for safer, multilayered, reinforced panels, Teresa took a break to make a server of coffee. As she swallowed some analgesics to treat a budding tension headache, her door panel chimed. “Come in.”

A towering being with multijointed limbs ducked over to pass beneath the too-short threshold of the door panel. Although the N-jui were classified as humanoid, T’Kafanitana strongly resembled an eight-foot-tall, maroon-colored version of a Terran praying mantis. A talented chemist and researcher, T’Kaf worked as Teresa’s lab manager and general assistant.

The N-jui straightened and regarded Teresa with four sparkling dark eyes. “Doctor, forgive the interruption. I have the results on those water temperature samples that you requested.” When Teresa indicated the server in her hand, T’Kaf shook her head. “Thank you, but no. That beverage makes my diaphragm spasm all night.”

“Nothing abnormal.” T’Kaf went over and loaded the lab results into the main console terminal. “Samples taken from a two-hundred-kim section of the Western Sea coast match temperatures measured in the same region over the last two decades. The water is not growing any colder.”

“There goes my main theory right down the drain.” Teresa studied the numbers. “So if the coastal waters aren’t cooling off enough to attract the ’shrike, then what is?”

The N-jui made a cautious gesture. “It could be a shift in the migratory patterns of their primary food sources. Or, perhaps, their breeding habits are changing.”

Both women looked up at the man standing in the doorway. His short black hair, cool blue eyes, and smooth features were unmistakably Terran. The brown uniform and double-bar insignia on his collar indicated he was a League captain.

Teresa could react, or she could play it cool. Since they had an audience, she chose the latter. “May I help you?”

“That’s my question.” He walked in and sized up the room and the N-jui before doing the same to Teresa. “Captain Noel Argate, Pmoc Quadrant Marine Research Division.”

Captain Noel Argate. How far the mighty have fallen. “I was under the impression that MRD have their base ops on a water world two systems from here.” A planet filled with aquatic life-forms too primitive to protest whatever atrocities the League committed in their waters, and what the hell was Professor Emeritus Noel Argate doing in a damn uniform?

“We are. I’m a marine biologist, temporarily assigned to K-2 to observe your native population.” Argate offered Teresa his ID and assignment disks. “Quadrant occasionally has skirmishes on worlds with populated marine territories, so some of what I learn here could possibly help the civilians caught in the war.”

Help civilians. Maybe if he were repeatedly prodded by a high-energy discharge device, Teresa thought. Otherwise, the Noel Argate she had known wouldn’t have wasted the effort it took to flick nasal discharge in the general direction of anyone who couldn’t pay him, advance him, or kiss his perfectly toned, world-renowned ass.

“Hold that thought, Captain.” Teresa inserted the disks and verified Argate’s claims with Colonial Administration. Either he had a forger with first-class skills, or he was on K-2 on legitimate business for the League.

Which was impossible. Noel would never have left Terra, and he certainly wouldn’t have taken the massive compensation cut it would have cost him to join the military.

Teresa pulled a copy of his orders from Transport and compared them to the one he had presented to her. “All right, Captain, let’s assume you’re not lying through your teeth.” She handed the disks back to him. “What do you want from me?”

The old Argate would have given her a suggestive look. This one merely offered up a polite smile. “I’d like the opportunity to work at the URD and provide whatever assistance I can. Of course, you’re in charge here, Doctor. If you feel my presence would be a hindrance, I can set up quarters back at the surface colony. If space permits, however, I would be delighted to stay here and possibly help with your mogshrike problem.”

“Excuse me, but I must go and check on an experiment I was conducting in the lab.” T’Kaf rose and collected the lab results. “I will speak to you later, Dr. Selmar.” She spared Argate a glance and inclined her head. “Captain.”

Teresa could secure the door panel after the chemist left and have it out with Noel Argate, the architect of her ruin back on Terra. That was what he was expecting, though, and she had no intention of playing up to his ego. She took shelter in a calm silence and what she hoped was an indifferent stare.

“Her species tends to be somewhat reserved.” Teresa had picked up on T’Kaf’s instant dislike of the League captain, too, but the N-jui might have simply resented the man’s intrusion, or sensed Teresa’s silent but violent internal reaction. “T’Kaf is not accustomed to working with males.”

“I’d heard that N-jui don’t permit males to leave their homeworld.” A little contempt edged his tone. “Rather like Ylydii females in their attitude, aren’t they?”

That’s right, throw out that casual reminder of how well educated you are. Teresa felt a little better, now that she was seeing the man’s true persona emerge. You just don’t realize that you’re on my turf now.

“Ylydii females are dominant, and keep their males like pampered domesticates,” she informed him. “One class of N-jui males are essentially mindless, walking semen vessels who are devoured after mating.”

“Ah.” The captain nodded. “I will remember the distinction, particularly if I am ever propositioned by your lab chief.”

The sense of humor was new, too. “T’Kaf is not a breeder. Like their males, there are at least six different subgender classifications of N-jui females, but only the breeders mate and kill.” Teresa’s gaze went to a large, dark shadow passing outside the viewing panel. “I’ll have to discuss this with you another time; my mate is waiting for me.”

“The natives here are polygamous, seasonal breeders, so there is no such institution.” She showed him some of her teeth in a display that would have seriously upset an aquatic. “However, Dairatha and I have scandalized the pod by remaining exclusive to each other.”

“That provokes a thousand more impertinent questions, but I won’t keep you.” The captain offered a data chip. “This is my relay code. If you decide you have the time and space for me here at the URD, please let me know.”

Teresa knew quadrant wouldn’t have sent Argate to K-2 simply to serve as an observer or researcher. Nor was he here to be her new best friend—not with the unpleasant history between them. If he really had joined the military, then the League wouldn’t have wasted him on K-2. They had better things to do with their enlisted scientists, such as having them design and build more death machines for the war.

If that’s why he’s here, I’d better keep him where I can watch him. If it’s not, I’d better keep him here anyway.

“There’s an empty office at the end of the mid-level corridor, on the small side, but the adjoining quarters are rather comfortable,” she said. “As long as you don’t disrupt my staff’s routine, then you can occupy that for the duration of your assignment.” She could also monitor his transmissions and activities, as her own office was directly next to it.

“Thank you, Dr. Selmar. I’ll see that you won’t regret your generosity.” He inclined his head and then left the office.

A bump on the viewer panel made Teresa swivel around to look into her mate’s recessed eyes. One of the oldest males in the pod, Dairatha mu J’Kane’s bulk now stretched out almost three meters in length and weighed close to half a ton.

The sight of Dairatha made Teresa forget about Noel and filled her instead with strong, conflicting emotions. Despite their differences, the ’Zangian was the only male she had ever loved, would ever love. Yet because of their differences, that love was ultimately doomed. His size now made all but the mildest love play physically dangerous for Teresa, and soon it would no longer be possible for him to leave the water. In time the only manner in which they could be together would be with Teresa in a breathing rig, or like this, staring at each other from opposite sides of a wall.

Dairatha, who, like all ’Zangians, lived in the now, never worried about such things. Come-out, come-out, he finned, turning in a long, slow circle to show her his entire length. Such a display was usually only made to capture the interest of an unmated female, but he still used it with her to show that his affection and desire remained constant and unchanged.

Teresa swallowed against the tightness in her throat and pressed one hand to the plas. “I’ll be right there, my love.”