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Bright morning light spilled through the open drapes. Sprawled with an arm thrown over his eyes, Bane slept beside me, dead to the world. The sheet, draped across his lower half, left bare the smooth expanse of his bronzed chest. I studied him, drinking my fill of his short, mussed dark hair, masculine shadowed jaw, full lips, and naked chest. Even in sleep, he exuded power and coiled readiness, as if he could awaken and spring into action at any moment.
I’d had sex with the president’s enforcer.
But I didn’t regret it.
“You make me feel.”
From anyone else, I might have dismissed the utterance as a passion-inspired sweet nothing or even a lothario’s smarmy pickup line, but from Bane, it had been a plea and a prayer wrenched from the gut. Against all odds, we had connected. Some quality in the other had drawn us to one another. Sex with him had been like coming home.
Our passion had been unguarded, pure, and honest, a complete contrast to our distrustful détente.
I couldn’t predict what would happen next, but our relationship had altered. No cold automaton, Bane felt deeply.
So how could he stand to work for Jodane?
How could I?
The answer: I couldn’t. Not anymore.
We had always been on the same side—but it had been the wrong side of right. Working together, could we move to the right side of right?
I needed to talk to him, but I’d wait until he awakened. Job stresses led to uneasy, fitful slumber. Sleep was an elusive, precious commodity.
I eased out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. When I emerged, he hadn’t moved, so I quietly padded into the outer room. I collected my underwear and robe, donning the latter.
When I approached him asking for assistance to defect, it would be helpful if I first had secured Breeze’s support. Geo-Tech might tell me to get lost. I hadn’t made friends over there.
I grabbed my comm device. It was much later than I’d expected—almost midmorning. No wonder it was so light out. I fired off a message to Breeze, telling her I wished to work with her and Geo-Tech, and that I was, in effect, jumping ship.
Next, I contacted MORE in Stadt and told them I’d been delayed by the storm and had to reschedule, and I’d be in touch soon. I hoped to meet with them before tendering my resignation to possibly obtain useful information to stop the development. However, unless Breeze accepted me into Geo-Tech, there was no point. Without Geo-Tech’s protection, my only option would be to run like hell and hope Bane could help me disappear.
Was the storm still raging? Through the soundproofed, sand-frosted glass, I couldn’t tell. I peered into the bedroom. He had shifted slightly but was still sleeping. I could dash downstairs, check on the storm, and grab us some breakfast from the cantina. I crept into the bedroom, snagged my overnight bag, and then got dressed in the other room. I shot a note to his comm device then let myself out of the unit.
The lobby was vacant.
“Where is everybody?” I asked the clerk—a different one from the night before.
“The dust storm passed, so everybody left.”
I would have cleared out at first light if I’d slept on the floor, too. But, yay! The storm had passed. “Uh, which way is the cantina?”
“Take the elevator up to the second floor and go left. It’s at the end of the hall.”
“Great, thank you,” I said, and then it hit me. I couldn’t use the elevator! I’d been able to descend because everybody had to be able to in case of emergency, but I didn’t have access to go back up! Same situation with the stairwell. I hadn’t been scanned. I couldn’t get to any floor, including my own. Bane would have to come get me. I’d have to ask the clerk to buzz our room and wake him up.
If the clerk would do it. We had the presidential suite, and this guy didn’t know I’d checked in. No scan. No record of my identity. “Um, the guy at the desk last night...is he still here?”
“The clerk? He’s still on site, but he’s off duty.”
Before attempting to convince this clerk I was a legit guest, I’d take a peek outside. Bane could sleep a little longer, and I could see what the way station looked like. “Is it safe to go outside? I left my mask and goggles in the room.”
“For a short period. It’s calm,” he said. “Gonna try to find your RTC, huh? If you want a bot to clear the area so you can get it out, I’ll need your vehicle’s ID number.”
“Uh...okay. Thanks.” Clear the area?
I passed through the vestibule and exited. My jaw dropped. The way station complex was buried several feet deep in sand. Dunes rolled right up to the first-floor windows and drifted a story high against the perimeter wall. A sweeper bot had managed to clear a narrow snaking path.
On the positive side, the sky was bright blue and the atmosphere clear and motionless.
“I can see clearly now the storm is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dust clouds that had me blind. It’s gonna be a calm, calm Sajave day...” I trilled in a parody of a song so ancient, it used to play on the radio. I knew it because my dad had been a 20th century music buff.
Alongside the berm left by the sweeper, the sand jumped. A geyser shot straight up, did a pirouette, and then collapsed.
Oh my gosh. Hadn’t Gayle and Breeze said the sand enjoyed music?
“It’s gonna be a calm, calm Sajave day,” I sang.
Another spurt shot up on the opposite berm. Wonder and excitement raced through me. It responded to me! I strolled along the path singing, improvising new lyrics to the old tune. “Oh yes I can live for now, the danger’s gone...”
“All of the bad men have been seduced.” I hadn’t slept with Bane to attempt to soften him and secure his cooperation. It had been a spontaneous expression of passion. Trust.
“Here is the freedom I’ve been hoping for. It’s gonna be a calm, calm Sajave day.”
The alien reacted like a stadium of people doing the wave, shooting up tendrils of swaying, spinning, dancing sand as I walked along singing. A palpable sense of joy flowed from the sand like a warm mist.
The alien was emoting, communicating with me!
It’s telepathic! That was Gayle and Breeze’s big secret. Yes, the alien liked music, but it communicated telepathically! Mystery pieces fell into place. I recalled sobbing in the dunes after running away. The sand had touched my hand, and I’d felt calmer, more at peace. The alien was comforting me. It knew I was upset. It’s not only intelligent, it’s empathetic.
Around the side of the way station, sweeper bots scurried over a moonscape of mounds and craters. I sang the final line of the song, and, seconds later, the dancing sand folded into itself.
Shoot! I started another song, but the damage had been done. Either my pause had broken the connection, or the flurry of activity from the bots had disturbed the alien. Dammit!
Several robotic machines scuttled in circles around heaps of sand. I realized the mounds were buried RTCs, and the craters were depressions left by departed hovercrafts. I had no idea which mound was my RTC.
Kneeling, I scooped up a handful of glistening, soft powder. I’d always assumed if I met an alien, he or she or it would have arms and legs or some sort of appendage. It would be able to speak—even if I couldn’t understand its language. I realized how nearsighted and wrong my assumptions had been. It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.
Convincing good, well-intentioned people of the sand’s sentience would pose a huge challenge. Getting the Jodane administration to care, to place the alien’s survival above the president’s money and power grab would be impossible.
But I had to try.
I felt silly, but I stroked the sand in my palm as if I were petting a tiny animal. I remembered the ferocity of the storm. “No more temper tantrums, okay? I’m going to try to help you,” I said.
“Running away?”
I whirled around. Bane’s uncombed hair poked up at all angles. One pant leg was stuffed inside a boot, another bunched up outside.
“I woke up, and you were gone,” he said.
“I sent you a message.”
“You said you’d be in the cantina. You weren’t there.”
“I didn’t have access. You stopped me from getting scanned last night.”
“Ah. Yeah.” He rubbed his bristly jaw. “I did do that.”
“I figured you’d have to come get me. But you were sleeping. While I waited, I decided to look around.” I gestured at the dozen mounds. “Which one of those is ours?” Seeing what the storm had wrought, it astounded me he’d gotten us into the building last night.
He narrowed his eyes. “Who were you talking to?”
“The sand.” I still had a handful. I let the grains filter through my fingers into the drift, and then I dusted off my palms.
“You talk to sand?”
“I sang to it, too.”
I hesitated, faced with a do-or-die decision. After yesterday and last night, I’d come to trust Bane. But was I 100 percent sure? No. I wouldn’t be the first woman to confuse the physical high of steamy sex with an emotional connection. If I was wrong about him, I’d risk more than my life and freedom, I’d jeopardize the alien’s future. But my gut urged me to trust him, and I didn’t have a lot of options. Geo-Tech might not hire and shield me. I couldn’t escape without help. I needed his assistance.
You make me feel, he’d said.
The sentiment had been genuine. I’d swear it. If sand could emote, why not Benjamin Bane?
So, I chose to gamble and trust him. But how did I start to explain what I wanted and why? Taking a deep breath, I said, “The sand isn’t sand. It’s an alien life-form. According to Geo-Tech, a very intelligent alien life-form.”
“I know,” he said.
My jaw dropped. How? How long? Did Jodane know? Had I been the only one in the dark? “You know?”
“Yes.” His face appeared as unreadable as ever.
A little curl of trepidation gave me pause, but, at this point, in for a dime, in for a dollar. I’d already shown my hand. “You said you could help me.” My heart thudded in my chest. Trust was a choice as much as a belief. Hopefully I wasn’t making a foolish choice.
He nodded. “You intend to resign. You want to work with Geo-Tech. You have some information for Quint Stroud.”
Sweeper bots stopped humming. Sajave ceased spinning around its star. Bright-blue sky fell from the heavens to crash around me. Defection hadn’t occurred to me until this morning; I’d never said a word to him about it.
“You read my messages?” My comm device was password-protected. “You hacked my device?” I reeled from the implications. How many other messages had he read? How long had he been spying on me? Besides my intention to jump ship, what else incriminating might I have said?
I remembered how he’d broken into my cabin—my palm-print-protected, locked cabin. My device had been on the desk. Had he read my device then, too?
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “Let’s go inside, I’ll explain. I promise.”
He promises? His word was as worthless as the penny he’d offered for my thoughts. I was an idiot to think I could trust him. From the start, it had been obvious he’d been stalking me. Once an enforcer, always an enforcer. And now he knew I’d intended to betray the president and help Geo-Tech.
I backed away, stumbling in the deep sand. He’d plied me with alcohol, concocted a sob story about losing his emotions, and seduced me into letting down my guard. I’d fallen for him like some gullible bimbo. You make me feel. I’d made him feel all right—satisfaction and triumph. You win. You got me.
I ran for my life.
He caught me before I could take a half dozen steps.
“No! Let me go. Let me go!” I struck at him, swinging with my fists. A blow connected with his chin. Sharp pain sliced through my knuckles, but he didn’t flinch. I kept swinging. “You lied! You lied!” I started sobbing. Goddammit, I had trusted him. Betrayal and self-loathing burned like acid. Nobody working for Jodane could be trusted, least of all an enforcer.
“Stop, Tempest, stop! You’ll hurt yourself.” His hands were like bands of steel, immobilizing my flailing fists, hauling me against his hard chest. “Let me explain, please. It’s not what you’re thinking!”
I stomped, aiming for his feet, but his stance was too wide to reach. I tried in vain to head-butt him.
He pressed his mouth to my ear. I struggled, trying to wrench away, but he had me trapped. “It’s okay. I promise, it’s all right,” he swore. “Fuck, I botched this.”
Meaning what? I wasn’t supposed to find out he’d played me?
I cried with great shuddering sobs. I was as good as dead. Jodane had a heads-up I’d planned to leave, and she couldn’t risk me revealing what I knew—as, in fact, I’d decided to do.
“Y-y-ou said I could t-t-trust you, and y-y-ou lied.” That hurt so much. I had started to trust him. I’d developed feelings for him.
“I lied about a lot of things but not that. You can trust me. I had to be certain I could trust you. I had to learn where your loyalties lay, whose side you were on, be confident you wouldn’t betray me before I brought you in.”
Betray him? Bring me in? What was he talking about? Tears caught in my throat. I hiccupped. Snot ran from my nose.
He swore again. “Look at me, please.”
I pressed my lips together. I never wanted to set eyes on him again.
One arm tightened across my spine, while his other hand cupped my cheek and tipped my chin up.
I averted my eyes, the only act of rebellion I left to me. If I could stall long enough for somebody to come out of the way station or fly in, maybe I could escape. But then go where? He’d capture me again.
“My god, you’re stubborn,” he said, and it showed how screwed up I was that I imagined I heard admiration. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Tempest, I don’t work for Kathryn Jodane.”
My gaze snapped to his.
“I work for C-Force.”
