End Game

The Phoenix Rebellion Book IV: End Game

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The Phoenix Rebellion Book IV

End Game By

Gail R. Delaney Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.net

Triskelion Publishing 15327 W. Becker Lane Surprise, AZ 85379 Copyright © 2006 Gail R. Delaney

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher except, where permitted by law. ISBN 1-60186-000-5 Publisher’s Note. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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Dedication To– All the poor souls who had to listen to me ramble on for hours about Nick and Caitlin, Jace and Lilly, Victor and Beverly and Michael and Jacqueline as if they were real people. And especially those who understood. I’m not crazy, I’m an author. To– Craig, who has always believed in me. You’re always the first to say “I’m so proud of you.”

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For Everything There is a Season For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under Heaven. A time to be born; and a time to die. A time to plant; and a time to pluck up what is planted. A time to kill; and a time to heal. A time to break down; and a time to build up. A time to weep; and a time to laugh. A time to mourn; and a time to dance. A time to throw away stones; and a time to gather stones together. A time to embrace; and a time to refrain from embracing. A time to seek; and a time to lose. A time to keep; and a time to throw away. A time to tear; and a time to sew. A time to keep silent; and a time to speak. A time to love; and a time to hate. A time for war; and a time for peace. ~From the Book of Ecclesiastes Chapter 3, Verses 1-8

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“Out of ashes, humanity will rise again”

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Prologue

Earth Time: Tuesday, November 5, 2052 Capital City of Callabria Planet Aretu Far side of the Galaxy Nick stood near the pristine white wall of the hanger bay, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet set apart, studying the Aretu scout ship that hovered effortlessly fifteen feet above the deck. The ship was magnificent. Sleek and smooth, its mirror surface helped it blend into its surroundings, even here in the bay. No sound emanated from its cool-fusion engines, and only the slightest sway of its massive body indicated it wasn’t firmly anchored to the floor. The size of a football field, it would carry Nick and two dozen other Aretu and Umani soldiers for the three-month journey back to Earth. He had been assured that the Armada ships traveled much faster, so even though they left Aretu weeks after the scout ships, they would reach Earth not long after Nick. The trip would be faster, but he didn’t have the patience it took to sit around waiting for everything to be ready. He needed to move. Needed to feel like he was closer to home. There would be no cryogenic sleep this time. Nick wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or not. On one hand, he could sleep through most of the trip like he did when he was a kid and his parents drove cross country on vacation. It didn’t matter–sleep or no sleep–slow or fast–he was going home. “The scout ship doesn’t depart for another three hours, Nicholas. Are you in such a hurry to leave Aretu?” Nick twisted at the waist and looked back to Queen Bryony the Fourteenth where she stood several feet away. He had seen her several times since leaving Raxo for Aretu, where the ships were prepared for the journey. She never wore the garish and jeweled gowns like the one she had worn that first time he saw her except when she attended an official event. Otherwise, she wore simple gowns of cream or yellow that hid more than accentuated her feminine form. Today it was a pale yellow that deepened the gold of her hair and turned her skin to alabaster. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, and in many ways reminded him of Caitlin with her height and the color of her hair. But as beautiful as she was, she didn’t squeeze the air from his lungs with a gentle fist the way Caitlin did. “Not so much leaving Aretu as going home, Your Highness.” She moved forward to stand beside him, turning her attention to the scout ship. “Isn’t it beautiful?” “Yes, ma’am. I’m hoping I can convince the captain to let me behind the wheel during one of the jumps. I’d love to know how this baby handles a wormhole.”

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“No manual navigation is required during flight,” she said softly, her voice distant as she studied the craft. He had learned early on that Queen Bryony had a great appreciation for flying machines. “The ship will do it all.” “Too bad.” She turned to look up at him. “You mentioned that you had to manually negotiate the wormholes while seeking us. We have not done so in many generations, but I imagine it requires great skill.” Nick shrugged. “Comes natural, I guess.” “That is the gift of your Areth blood.” He snapped his attention to her. “What do you mean?” Nick still had a hard time absorbing the reality that the human race wasn’t a product of its own evolution, but a new race created from the combined ancestors of Areth, Umani and ancient Human. “The ability to reach past the confines of your mind.” “You mean like psychic? I’m not psychic.” “Perhaps not to that extreme, but I knew the moment I met you that you held some touch of the gift. Don’t you feel it?” Nick shrugged. “I felt something. There’s this woman I know–Beverly–and she’s empathic. I always feel like the hair on the back of my neck stands on end when she’s around.” “You see?” she said, as if that explained it all. He didn’t answer, looking back to the ship. Areth and Umani moved beneath it, scanning and checking the systems before their departure. His skin itched to leave. He packed his meager bag the day before, and now waited for take off. It couldn’t come soon enough. “Beverly…” “Hmmm?” he hummed, turning when she spoke. “Is Beverly the one you are so anxious to return to?” Nick grinned, running his thumb across his lower lip. “Am I that obvious?” “Perhaps only to one interested.” “No,” he said, shaking his head in answer to her question. “Her name is Caitlin. She’s my…“ Nick struggled to find the right way to explain. Hell, language barrier or not he wasn’t sure what label he could slap on Caitlin that would be right. That would fit. He pulled from his chest pocket the photograph that never left him. In the months of flight, and weeks after arriving on Raxo, the edges had curled and a crease angled across one corner. Nick held it out to her and she took it with a gentle reverence, cradling the photo in her palm. He cleared his throat, squinting as he looked from Queen Bryony to the photo. “When I get back, I’m going to marry her.” “She’s beautiful.” Nick wondered where along the way he had turned into a sack of love-sick mush, but smiled at the pleasant warmth that spread through him when Queen Bryony complimented the woman he loved. “Yeah.” “Is this your child?”

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It sounded off to hear Michael referred to as a child. In the photo, he stood as tall as Nick, the same grin on their faces. He was far from a kid, yet, Nick almost felt like a new father. “Michael.” She raised her head and looked into his face. “Michael is not a child you share with Caitlin.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of the obvious. Nick shook his head, rubbing his lips together before answering. “No.” She stared at him expectantly for a few moments, but Nick offered no further explanation. The truth was bad enough without rehashing it. It didn’t matter now. Michael was with him… or would be as soon as he got home. And Caitlin would be his wife. Eventually, Queen Bryony looked away and handed the photo back to him. “We will return you to them as quickly as possible, Nicholas.” “Soon isn’t nearly soon enough, Your Highness.”

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Chapter One

Friday, February 14, 2053 19:37 Along the Charles River Ruins of Boston, Massachusetts Former United States of America Jackie’s lungs burned almost as painfully as her legs, but she kept running. Behind her, echoing through the charred and crumbled remains of what had once been the Back Bay, were the steady footfalls of her pursuers. The cold air bit at her exposed skin, but there hadn’t been time to grab anything to keep her warm against the winter wind. She was lucky to be free. And if the Sorracchi bastards behind her had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t be for much longer. Her boots slipped on the slick, wet pavement and she fell to her knees, biting back the grunt of pain that lodged in her throat. Hearing the running steps at the other end of the street, Jackie rolled and squeezed her body against a cold steel doorway to pause and catch her breath. With any luck they’d keep going. The door gave way behind her and she stumbled into the pitch black cavern of the building’s interior. The air was only slightly less cold here, lacking the wet heaviness and bitter wind outside. The hinges creaked as the door swung closed again and she winced, knowing even that slight sound would draw the attention of the Sorracchi soldiers. Wasting no time, Jackie ran into the darkness as quickly as she dared with her hands extended in front of her to keep her from running head on into a wall. That’s all she needed, a broken nose on top of everything else. Her hands hit brick and she moved along the wall, fumbling for a door or exit to let her move on before she was discovered. The sizzling sound of a pulse charge rifle echoed through the air, accompanied by the crack of the steel door behind her flying across the open space to crash against a far wall. “Damn it,” she mumbled, moving faster. Her hand slipped from the damp brick to a wooden door and she quickly found the knob, closing her eyes briefly in silent hope that it wasn’t locked. The knob gave and she slipped through into the stairwell beyond. Dim moonlight bathed the narrow tower through the gaping hole two stories up that had once been the roof. She was thankful for the light and grabbed the icy railing to ascend the steps. But the time she hit the second landing, she was sure her stomach was going to turn inside out and her legs were going to liquefy out from beneath her. She had run at least ten or twelve blocks before reaching the riverfront, the guards not far behind the whole time. After two days of ‘interrogation’–a fact that just plain pissed her off because she had let herself get caught in the first place–her body screamed for her to stop. She hadn’t eaten in days, hadn’t had water in hours. Right now, licking the sooty black moisture off the walls seemed just as viable an option as anything else.

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She hit the second landing and hunched forward, her hands braced on her knees, gasping for air. Muscles twitched with painful spasms and she sucked air through a throat lined with sandpaper and cotton. The door below crashed open and she groaned, her movement forward more a controlled fall than an actual step. “You have got to be kidding me,” she cursed, yanking open the door in front of her. A cold gust of wind slapped her in the face as she stepped onto the open surface that had once been an enclosed building. Half the walls were gone, blown away months before in the initial attacks. The burnt remains of three desks sat along one wall, a frozen and decaying corpse hunched over one. Jackie ignored the macabre scene, having learned months before that it did no good to dwell. She had mourned for men and women she never knew every time she stumbled on their remains, but eventually there were just too many to mourn. She was alive, and she intended to keep it that way. “Go up! Go up!” The echoed voices of her pursuers followed her and Jackie pushed forward through the deep snow that covered the surface. She was stuck, trapped, unless she found a place to hide. One look at the path she harrowed through the foot deep snow would lead them right to her. “No way in hell you’re going down this way, Anderson,” she ordered herself, ignoring the wet and cold as it quickly saturated her pants. Her toes were numb and the aching chill had already hit her bones. She reached the far side of the surface and looked over the edge, hoping for the reprieve of a fire escape. And found none. She slapped her hand on the iced surface, tingling needles of pain shooting up her arm. “Damn!” She felt the crackle in the air and the hot surge of a pulse blast slice through her arm before she heard the discharge boom. Jackie spun around, pressing her hand against the bleeding wound ripped in her upper arm. “Stay where you are!” the Sorracchi bastard shouted as he ran towards her, pulse rifle leveled on her. “I don’t think so.” Death would be better than being a prisoner of the Sorracchi. She had seen what they did to Jace Quinn, the way they had sucked away his humanity and his soul until all that remained was a broken shell. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t let it happen. Bracing her hand on the broken wall, Jackie set her boots in the snow and stood on the edge, looking down to the dock and the water two stories below. Her choices sucked: either the ungiving ground or the icy water. Another blast whizzed by her and she flailed her arms to keep her balance. “Don’t move!” Jackie twisted to look back at the single Sorracchi, his buddies somewhere else in the building. Raising her hand to her temple, she saluted. “See you in hell.” With one final demand of her aching body, Jackie pushed off. The rush of air filled her ears and she swallowed the scream that threatened to rip its way from her throat. At the last

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second, she knew where she would hit, and sucked in one final deep breath before the icy waters of the Charles River enveloped her and dragged her down. ***** Sunday, February 16, 2053 02:49 Phoenix Tennessee Complex Colorado Base relocation site Smokey Mountains, Tennessee Former United States of America CJ rolled onto her back, blinking her eyes in the semi-darkness of her bedroom, trying to determine what noise had woken her. Moonlight streamed in through her open curtains, glistening off the fallen snow outside with a soft gray haze, and she wondered if it wasn’t just the wind whistling around the loose windows of the cottage. She closed her eyes and snuggled into the multiple layers of blankets again, hoping to drift back to sleep. Moments later, her eyes snapped open and she knew what had woken her. Throwing back the blankets, she slipped on the long flannel shirt she kept at the end of the bed and padded into the hall in her stocking feet. The mountain cottages had thin walls and rattling windows, built decades before as a summer resort. They weren’t built for inhabitance during the coldest months of the Tennessee Mountain winters, and a definite chill hung in the air. Not freezing, but far from toasty. The wood stove downstairs needed re-stoking. A soft glow spilled into the hallway from the bedroom at the end of the hall, and CJ walked to it, her hands tucked beneath her arms. She peaked through the open door, her breath catching in her throat. Michael paced the center of the room, wearing only a pair of pants so she knew the chill in the air had to nip at his skin, with a bundle of blankets curled against his shoulder. His cheek rested against the small form, his eyes closed as he gently bounced her and sang softly beneath his breath. CJ couldn’t hear the words, but knew Michael’s repertoire was short, and assumed it was probably either Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star or a hymn he had learned from Jace or Lilly Quinn. Soft mewling sounds came from the blankets, and every once in awhile CJ caught sight of a small fist escaping the warm confines so tiny fingers could curl against Michael’s shoulder. “Is she fussy?” CJ asked in a whisper. Michael turned enough to look at CJ over Nicole’s bundled head. “She doesn’t want to sleep.” CJ smiled and leaned her shoulder against the jamb. “Do you want me to walk with her awhile so you can get some rest?” “I’m fine.” She drew a slow breath, her heart aching at Michael’s driving need to prove himself with Nicole. A part of her understood, but she wished she could help him believe he could have help and still be everything he wanted and needed to be to her. In time, she knew he would. Everything came in time.

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CJ walked into the room and stood behind him, laying her hands on his back so he stopped moving for a moment. Nicole cooed and sighed, raising her head enough that two large blue eyes looked at CJ over the edge of Michael’s shoulder. CJ smiled, unable to deny the warm glow that spread through her whenever she looked into the infant’s angelic face. “Have you tried laying her down with you?” she offered. “That was my next option.” “Come on. I’ll help you get her settled, and then I’ll go put some more wood in the stove. Maybe get some chill out of the air.” “I can do that.” CJ turned from walking out of the room, and looked at Michael with a wry grin. “Will you stop? You can’t do it all. You take care of Nicole, I’ll take care of the stove.” She followed Michael into his bedroom, and held the baby as he lay down in the bed, settling himself on his side with his arm stretched along the mattress. When he was comfortable, CJ leaned forward and nestled Nicole into the warm shelter her father’s body created for her. Michael pulled the blanket up to cover them both, careful not to cover Nicole too much. As he let his head rest on the pillow, he looked at CJ. “Thank you.” She nodded and went to the door, pausing to look back. “Michael?” He raised his head. “Yes?” “I’m proud of you.” She barely saw his slight nod in the semi-darkness of the room and left the door open as she went downstairs to stoke the fire. The flames quickly licked at the dry wood as she stacked it inside, and she knew the cottage would be much warmer soon. She sat down in the rocking chair near the stove while she waited to make sure the flame was at a strong burn, almost lulling herself to sleep again with the slow creak of the old wood. The last few weeks had been a learning experience for both she and Michael. Being the youngest of her siblings, she had no experience with babies beyond occasionally taking care of Jamie for Lilly and Jace. But babysitting for a few hours was nothing compared to having Nicole in the house all the time. Michael amazed her. The first twenty-five years of his life had been void of affection or anything tender, and yet he managed to open his heart and his life to this child he had no responsibility or biological ties to. From the moment he decided he wanted to care for her, she had been nothing less than his daughter. CJ had been reluctant at first when Michael told her of his intentions. Barely a year had passed since he had been a prisoner of the Sorracchi. He had never laid eyes on a child before then, and now he wanted to raise one? It had seemed daunting and overwhelming, but Michael had been insistent in his silent, still way. In the end, CJ had been unable to offer any viable argument. She smiled as she rocked in the chair, staring at the slow glow growing in the belly of the stove. They were quite the family. CJ saw Michael as her son, when she was barely five years older. He saw her as a mother because he had known nothing else but Kathleen’s rage and pain. The way Kathleen abused him was so far removed from a maternal act, CJ couldn’t comprehend that the vile creature they knew of could have possibly created the gentle soul

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that was Michael Tanner. And now, he was a father to a child he had only emotional ties to because he felt the need to protect the helpless little girl when she had nothing else left. Did that make her Nicole’s grandmother? CJ snorted a quiet chuckle. Not even thirty-one years old and she was a grandmother. Not many women ever managed that. When she knew the fire would burn long and warm, she climbed the stairs again. Before going to her own room at the end of the hall, CJ paused at Michael’s open doorway. The only sounds she heard were the deep breathing of both Michael and Nicole. CJ crept carefully across the floor to the foot of the bed. Michael’s large hand–so like his father’s–rested on Nicole’s blankets, his head tipped toward her half off the pillow. Her small, chubby face was turned to him, her lips apart as she slept. Tears blurred CJ’s vision and she quickly retreated from the room before she woke them. Her heart ached, expanding in her chest until it was hard to breathe. Making it to her own bedroom, she slipped into bed with Nick’s flannel shirt still wrapped around her body.

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Chapter Two

“We lost the Kaliningrad base.” Lilly whispered a soft prayer under her breath and Michael rubbed his fingertips across his forehead. General Castleton sat behind his desk, his head down, deep lines furrowing his strained brow. In the last three months, the Sorracchi attacks had stepped up ten-fold all over the globe. They systematically emptied cities, taking some of the human population and killing the rest; or leaving them to live in squalor and depravation in the hollowed remains of their cities. Beverly’s hand motions caught his attention and Michael looked to the red-headed woman as she spoke. “Is there any chance of survivors we can relocate?” “Long range terranian radar indicates the city is little more than a hole in the ground and the enemy hasn’t cleared the area yet. We believe they’ve figured out we move in to clean up the mess, and are sticking around long enough to make sure it does no good. It’s the middle of winter, and cold as hell. If there’s anyone left, they won’t last long without shelter.” Michael swallowed, his throat thick at the thought of the lives lost. The reports seemed endless, and they were all thankful when a day passed and they didn’t receive any reports of another city lost or another mass killing. The Sorracchi, even though the majority of the world still knew them as Areth, were relentless. They culled the population like cattle farmers, taking people who met their requirements. What became of the rest they didn’t care. Victor detailed what he believed they sought, but their needs went beyond just the desired physical traits. They wanted purity. They wanted humans who had been filtered and altered and documented as the absolute example of human perfection as created by their fourdecade experiment. Michael wondered how long their charade would have gone on if Jacob hadn’t left Colorado and made the President listen. If the President hadn’t announced to the World the extent of their deceit, would they have continued for generations until Humanity either achieved the final result they sought, or stood up and said ‘No more’? A knock interrupted the solemn meeting, and Captain Eddie Hampton opened the door at the General’s call. “Sir, we just received a transmission I thought you should know about.” The General sighed and Michael’s shoulders tensed. The last good news they received in the last six months had been the rescue of Jace Quinn, other than that, transmissions usually meant death and loss. “What is it?” “Sir, we have a small shuttle hover approaching the base from the town side of the Mountain.” “The town is inhabited,” Michael stated, sitting up straighter. “Yes, sir. The pilot of the shuttle called ahead on our low-range frequency. She stated she has one of our people in the ship requiring medical attention. She relayed all the proper codes and passwords, sir.” “Did she give her name or the name of the passenger?” “She identified herself as Sonora only, sir.”

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The General squinted. “Just Sonora?” “Yes, sir.” “Do you suppose it’s her?” Beverly signed. “I haven’t seen hide nor tail of her in, hell, five years?” General Castleton said with a shake of his head. A smile deepened the wrinkles bracketing his mouth. “Allow her to approach, Captain. Take her and her passenger directly to the infirmary. Do you need to go, Michael?” Michael shook his head. “No, sir. Lilly is there.” “Well, I’m not sure we can do much more good here, anyway. The world is dying, we’re low on supplies, same crap different day.” In silent agreement that the meeting was over, Michael and Beverly stood. With a nod to the General, Michael opened the door for Beverly to leave the room ahead of him. As he pulled the door shut, he saw the General rest his elbows on the desk and hold his head in his hand. Beverly was several feet down the hall before he caught up with her, touching her elbow to draw her attention. She looked up at him, a tight and restrained smile bowing her lips. Deep sadness shadowed her eyes; the same shadows he had seen in Victor’s eyes for the last several weeks. Beverly cloaked it well, but not enough for Michael not to see. “Walk with me,” he said simply. She nodded and they entered the main room of Command Hall, full with at least three dozen of the base compliment as it neared the mid-day meal. Michael took Beverly’s coat from the peg near the main door and held it for her to slip on. He hadn’t worn one, enjoying the bite of the cold on his cheeks for the short walk from the infirmary to the main building. Offering his arm, she slipped her hand into the bend of his elbow and they stepped outside. The sun was bright, shimmering off the layer of ice and snow that covered everything. The branches of the trees tipped toward the ground, laden with the thick crust and the sky was a pale blue. “Who is Sonora?” he asked as they started up the incline to the infirmary. She slid her arm further through his so her hands were in front of her to sign. “Sonora isn’t actually part of Phoenix, but she has been an aid and a help to us for a long time. She is a bit of a free spirit, flittering about wherever she’s needed. She studied ancient healing methods and spirituality. I guess she’s a bit like the hippies of a hundred years ago.” “She sounds interesting.” Beverly smiled, and this time he saw some of the old spark. “Interesting is an understatement. I bet you and she could have many long, interesting conversations. She might be able to teach you a whole new approach to medicine.” “Perhaps.” He wanted to say something about Victor, but held the words. Michael was confident that the two of them would find their ways back to each other, when time passed and wounds healed. He knew very little about relationships, especially the intimate relationship Victor and Beverly shared, but he knew what he had seen in their faces when they were together. He knew the peace Beverly brought Victor, and how lost they looked without each other. The only way things would be right would be for them to find that peace in each other again.

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“I wonder who she might have brought. We haven’t known her whereabouts in months, well before the initial attacks.” They reached the infirmary and Michael held open the door for her. Before he could pull the door closed, Lilly burst into the main room from the hall. “Michael, I need you!” He bolted down the hall after her, nearly bowling over a petite woman with blue crystals braided into her brown hair. She stepped back, flatting her shoulders against the wall as he gripped the doorjamb of the first exam room and used it to propel him into the room as a barely muffled scream reached him. For half a second, his heart dropped into his gut. Jacqueline was on the exam table, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge. Lacerations-old ones-crossed her bare arms and her clothes were dirty and torn. A white bandage with a dark red stain wrapped around her arm, indicating a more recent wound but one at least a few days old. Her neck arched off the pillow, her body shaking as she clenched her teeth, hissing sharply. “Oh, God, Doc… please!” she shouted. Michael moved to Jacqueline’s side, hunching over her to hold her face in his hands. Her eyes were closed, her skin glistening with a fine sheet of perspiration. The tension in her body was enough to snap her in two. “Jacqueline,” he said softly but firmly. “Jacqueline, look at me.” Her eyes snapped open, her eyes immediately on him. Unshed tears made them glisten and she sucked in another sharp breath. A tight groan forced its way through her teeth. “I’m giving her a massive dose of Morphezine, Benzapriline and a fast acting NSAID,” Lilly said softly as she loaded the infusion syringe in her hand. “Jacqueline,” he said again, not looking away even to acknowledge Lilly’s words. “Jacqueline, hear me. You need to let the medication help you.” A choked gasp vibrated in her throat as she rapidly sucked in air, her eyes still locked hard on him. A drop of moisture escaped the corner of her eye and Michael brushed it away with his fingers. “Just look at me.” Her hand snapped free from the edge of the bed nearest him and she curled her fingers into his shirtsleeve. The grip was hard and desperate, but he didn’t look away from her eyes. He continued to stroke back her matted hair, running his thumb over her cheeks. His own pulse pounded viciously at his temples. Michael wanted to know what they had done to her, where she had been, and how she had escaped, but none of the questions were as important as helping her. The click and hiss of the infusion syringe reached him over the pounding in his ears and Jacqueline’s sharp breathing. “Deep breaths. Let it work.” Her eyes fluttered and her gaze shifted to the ceiling past him. “No, Jacqueline,” he said, repeating her name again to keep her with him. “Look at me. Look at me.” She pressed her trembling lips together, another tear rolling free. “M-Michael,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

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Jacqueline released a deep, shuddered breath and he felt the tension rush out of her like water dumped from a bucket. The grip on his sleeve loosened and her lips parted, her eyelids sliding heavily over her dark eyes. “The Morphezine is taking hold,” Lilly said just outside his peripheral. He stroked her hair, staring into her face. She blinked slowly, struggling to open her eyes again. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he said softly. When her eyes closed, they didn’t open again. Michael waited a few minutes, watching her carefully as Lilly worked around him to take a full bio-scan and determine the full extent of her injuries. He let his gaze shift over what he could see without pulling back. Deep purple bruises marbled her rich skin, her entire right shoulder a mottled patch of color. Cuts of varying depth and severity marred her flesh, but they didn’t appear to be administered by any tool. They were too jagged and random and some of them were visible through tears in her clothing. “She’s got the beginning of one hell of an infection brewing,” Lilly said softly, keeping her voice low as she read the data on her handheld. “Probably from the arm laceration. I’ll give her a dose of concentrated antibiotics as soon as we get her cleaned up. Contusions and abrasions practically from head to toe.” “What happened to her?” he forced through the fist clenched around his throat. “I haven’t gotten the story yet. But I do know the pain stemmed from several severely strained muscles along her spine.” He heard the twitter of the scanner as Lilly switched it on again. “Her back is lit up like a thermal board at a nuclear power plant.” He turned when she held out the scanner, looking at the heat imaging on the screen. From just below Jacqueline’s shoulder blades to her hips, her back muscles were white, indicating the heat and pain they pulsed through her. Michael squinting, understanding why she had been so distressed. To anyone else, her reaction to the pain would have seemed in control, but Michael knew her enough to know the pain had to be tearing her apart to let herself show so much. “Nothing life threatening…” he asked, turning his attention back to Jacqueline. Her breathing was deep and steady now, and her head rolled into his touch as she slipped into a drug-induced sleep. “No. There’s the infection, but we’re catching it soon enough.” “How much Morphezine did you give her?” She gave him the dosage and he calculated in his head that Jacqueline would sleep for at least a few hours before it wore off. Their supply of any medication was limited and dwindling, and the super dose had cost them. But with the level of pain she had coming in, they would also have to keep administering the drugs to keep it in check. Otherwise, it would take over again. At least, until he could help some other way. “I’m going to go talk to Sonora.” “Who’s Sonora?” “The woman who brought her to us.” Michael finally raised his head and looked at Lilly. “Could you and Amanda—” “Yeah,” she said with a smile.

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Reluctantly, Michael stepped back from the bed, letting his hand linger on her shoulder before heading for the door. He glanced back once as Lilly retrieved a basin and worked on cleaning the wounds and abrasions. He stepped back into the hall and walked with heavy feet towards the main entrance, finding the brunette he had rushed past before standing several feet away, her thumbnail between her teeth as she chewed nervously. She sat on the couch near the black wood stove, and stood quickly when he stepped into the room. “Sonora?” She nodded, the string of crystal beads in her hair tinkling together, and stared at him with wide eyes the color of liquid amber. Dusky pink color stained her cheeks from the winter wind, a sharp contrast to the almost transparent paleness of her skin. “How is she?” “We’re determining that now.” “You’re Michael.” She said it without the slightest inflection of a question. He nodded. “Can you tell me anything?” “You’re as cute as she said,” she said quietly before continuing. “I wish I could. All I can tell you is that I fished her out of the Charles River two days ago. She was beaten up pretty bad, from the fall and whatever else… and it took me hours just to get her warm enough that she could talk. She told me to bring you here. At first, when she said Castleton’s command, I headed for Colorado. I didn’t know y’all had relocated, although I guess it’s no surprise.” Michael shifted through the spattering of geography he had learned years before when he had still been allowed the privilege of books. “Charles River… in Boston?” “What’s left of it, yeah.” He glanced back over his shoulder to the hall leading back to the exam room. Jacqueline was lucky hypothermia hadn’t claimed her. But a fall through ice would explain many of the abrasions. Not all of them, but some. “She couldn’t tell you anything.” She shook her head, the beads tinkling again. “It’s been hard for her to talk. She sent me here, and once I knew where I was going I didn’t ask any more questions. She did tell me about you, and that she wanted to see you. She got pretty delirious at times. I tried to help her, but my medicine requires acceptance and focus… neither of which I think she has, right now.” Michael glanced at his watch and pushed his hands into his pockets. Nicole would be awake soon, and for the first time since bringing the little girl into his life, he felt torn. He wanted to go back into the room and sit by Jacqueline until she woke. Thankfully, he had some time. “Hey,” Sonora said, bringing his focus back. “Do you mind if I say something?” “Of course not.” “Your aura is troubled, big time. I can sense the concern for Jackie like a buffer all the way around you, but it’s way more than that. Honey, you’re going to eat yourself up from the inside out.” He squinted, listening to her, but had no idea how to respond. Before he could formulate an answer, he heard footsteps in the hall and turned to see Lilly. Michael stepped to the side so she could stand with him and Sonora. She crossed her arms, her expression tense.

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“What is it?” “Just about all the injuries I’ve found are easily treatable… the bruising… the cuts.” Michael heard the implication as loudly as if she said it. He dipped his chin, silently urging her to continue. “There’s something you need to see.” He followed her back down the hall to the room as Amanda pulled a blanket over Jacqueline’s still form. They had removed her dirty, torn clothing and washed away most of the dirt and grim that had clung to her skin. Bandaging covered the worst abrasions and topical cream glistened on the others that were still exposed. She was still asleep, her head turned away on the pillow. Michael stayed silent as Lilly pulled the blanket back again to below Jacqueline’s waist, edging the hem of her clean nightshirt out of the way. He reached for the pair of glasses in the pocket of his tee shirt and slipped them on, leaning over to see what Lilly wanted to show him. His throat tightened and he swallowed, dipping his chin as he drew a slow breath. One small but very fresh crisscross incision marked her lower, right abdomen just above her pelvic bone. It had been healed with a Stratum Basale Stimulator, he recognized the slight ‘new’ pink sheen of the marks, which meant the surgery had been performed and the notches treated before her escape. Michael slowly removed his glasses, resting the heels of his hands on the edge of the bed beside Jacqueline. He stared hard at Lilly for several moments, reining in the rage that bubbled beneath his skin. “Tell me.” Lilly shook her head. “It’s gone. Her entire right ovary is gone.”

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Chapter Three

Space slipped by, a blue-black haze through the wormhole the Wurdvoller Fliiger traveled. Distant stars blurred into long streaks of white as the scout ship sailed past, halfspeed and fast forward at the same time. Nick stood at the forward observation window, his arms crossed, watching the lights stretch and distort in their flight. It was beautiful. The wormholes he flew had been smaller, more compact, just enough to accommodate the sleek design and shape of his glider. But this wormhole… it was massive, and nearly transparent, allowing the distortion of space beyond to slip through the silken curtain. He wondered what the wormhole looked like from the outside, and quickly dismissed the thought. From outside the anomaly would appear to be little more than a blip on the radar, there then gone. Maybe, if you looked just at the right place at the right time, you might catch the ripple distortion as it passed. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of the ship around him. The hull barely vibrated with the force of the engines, but as he pushed out with his mind, he felt it. The energy danced over his skin, bubbled in his blood, and he pushed further. To feel the power of the wormhole. He imagined putting his fingers into the cold silk sliding past the sides of the ship, touching the shimmering surface. Beautiful strength. One false move, one spike in power fluctuations, and the wormhole could crash, taking the ship with it. The doors behind him opened, and he opened his eyes to glance back and see Annora enter. She smiled, dipping her chin in greeting. “I seek your company for the next meal,” she said, moving across the room toward him. “I visited your resting quarters, but found you absent. Several times since leaving Aretu, I have found you in this place and was not wrong in assuming I would find you here again.” “It’s as close as I get to sitting in the cockpit.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked to space again. “When I fly, the wormhole is everywhere. If I don’t see it, I’m not quite convinced we’re moving.” “You are anxious to be home again,” she said, her voice missing the lilt of a question. Nick twisted slightly to look back at her. “Yeah. I know this thing flies a hell of a lot faster than my glider did, but right now I feel like we’re crawling.” She joined him at the window, her hands linked in front of her. “It will not be long now. Two days, as you measure time.” Nick nodded, focusing on the stars. “How long has it been on Earth since you left seeking us?” “By the time we get home, one year, two months and sixteen days.” “This is a long time?” Nick looked to her, and drew a deep breath. With the language barriers, Annora had been one of the few Umani he had been able to speak with at any length. The compliment of the scout ships consisted of both Areth-which was still a fact he had a hard time wrapping his brain around-and Umani. His ship, the Wurdvoller Fliiger, consisted of mostly Umani, only a

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handful of which spoke Altenglischt. So, his conversations were limited mostly to Annora and his occasional transmission with Queen Bryony who traveled in the Excalibur. “I guess it depends on your perspective.” She looked at him with her pale eyes, one feature that set her apart from many of her kin with their intensely dark eyes, and tilted her head. “Perspective?” Nick laid his had out, as if in offering. “It’s how you look at. How it effects you. If I were home, a year might not feel like that long. But I’m here, and the people I care about are there… so it feels like a long time.” She nodded, and he knew she understood. “Do you think the time has passed as slowly for your lover and your son?” Nick suppressed his amused laugh. One thing about the slight variations in their languages, and the sometimes ‘off’ interpretations, Annora often didn’t pull any punches. He had yet to put a label on Caitlin–he loved her, he needed her–but he hadn’t had enough time to get much further than that. “I like to think so… I mean, I don’t want them–-” What word could he use here she would understand? Hurting? Moping? Pining away? For now, he just bypassed it. “I hope they care for me as much as I do them.” “Caitlin and Michael will be very happy to see you, of that I have no doubt.” “I hope so.” He took hold of her arm and set his other hand against the window. “We’re going to drop out of the wormhole.” A second later, the silver shimmering tunnel snapped clear and the Wurdvoller Fliiger dropped out of wormhole flight with a gentle jerk. The stars outside were once again static points in space, and the subtle hum of the ship lowered as the engines regenerated for the next jump. Where it had taken him nine months to reach the Umani galaxy, they were flying the same distance in less than a month in the advanced craft, but they still needed to pause every once in awhile to allow the engines to rest for such a long flight. To their right, Excalibur dropped into proximity-hover. “It won’t be long before we are on our way again,” Annora said. “I can feel how anxious you are.” Nick nodded, staring out into the blackness. “I’m just ready to get home.” ***** Jackie felt the touch on her cheek just as the heavy tendrils of forced sleep let her conscious mind go. The touch was gentle, familiar and she hummed softly as she forced her eyes open. Michael sat on the edge of her bed, his brown eyes studying her. She took half a second to glance around and acknowledged that she wasn’t in the same room they had brought her to first. This was more like a bedroom, the bed she laid in wider and softer than an exam table. “Hey, handsome,” she mumbled past chalky, dry lips. She ran her tongue over them, but the inside of her mouth was like cotton and it did no good. Michael retrieved a cup from the table beside the bed, turning the straw to face her as he held it to her lips. Jackie sighed in pleasure as the cold water washed away the sticky paste in her mouth and cooled her parched throat. The rush of cold spread out from her chest into her limbs. When she pulled back, Michael set the cup on the table, his gaze only shifting away from her long enough to put it down.

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Her eyelids were heavy and her thoughts not quite clear. Rolling her eyes, Jackie pulled her arm free of the blankets and ran her hand over her forehead. “I don’t know what the hell was in that cocktail you shot me up with, but damn. I don’t feel a thing.” He smiled, just the slightest touch of a curve to his lips, but enough to pop twin dimples on each side of his mouth. His thumb skimmed over the fresh bandage on her arm, and she felt the warmth of his hands through the fabric. His fingers curled around her upper arm, supporting it gently. “That’s good.” Jackie attempted a laugh, but she couldn’t seem to gather enough energy to get that far. It came out more like a muffled chuckle. A slight twinge shot up her back and she winced, sucking in a breath. Michael laid his hand on her stomach, and even through the thickness of the blanket covering her, she felt the weight of his touch. “Describe the pain.” Deep furrows dug into his brow, his eyes shifting over her. “Nothing compared to what it was,” she said, releasing her breath. “Tell me. It will help me.” His voice was so strained, so heavy, she couldn’t argue. Jackie shifted experimentally, trying to get more comfortable without re-awakening the monster in her back. The pang didn’t take her breath away, she braced herself for it soon enough. “Tight,” she answered, wishing the synapses in her brain would fire with more zing. “The pain is duller, but still there.” “What was it before?” She snatched her breath, barely managing to swallow the groan when he slid his hand beneath the blankets… and beneath her shirt over her side. He slipped his hand between her back and the mattress, leaning slightly over her. His expression was schooled as he obviously focused on what he felt and not the reaction it had on her. “Burning,” she managed to say without her voice skipping, a fact that amazed her with the fuzzy mush in her head. “Searing.” He pulled back the blanket, both his large hands now spanning her sides as he carefully worked his fingers into her muscles. “Really, really bad. Michael, you’re killing me here…” His hands stilled and he looked up. “Does it hurt?” Jackie drew in a long breath. “Hurt? No. Nope. Not at all.” His thumb skimmed over her stomach and she closed her eyes. Weren’t those drugs supposed to numb her sensations? Kill feeling? Her skin was alive, tingling and begging for more. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him in months… maybe it was because a man hadn’t touched her oh, so very long… maybe… God, maybe it was because he had the most amazing hands! Someone knocked at the door and Jackie huffed as Michael stood, her exposed stomach suddenly feeling cold and bare. “Come in,” he called, taking the moment to pull her blanket over her again. His eyebrows pulled together, fine lines branching from the corners of his eyes, making him look like he worked on the hardest math problem known to man. When the door opened, the sound of a crying baby carried from down the hall. Michael’s attention snapped to middle-aged woman who opened the door. Jackie didn’t recognize her and figured she had to be a recent transplant from another defunct base. Phoenix bases all over the continent were

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being disbursed as the Sorracchi death machines got closer. Any base near a major metropolitan area was a target, discovery inevitable. “What’s wrong?” he snapped. “Oh, you know her, Michael. When she wakes up, she doesn’t want anyone but you,” she said with a smile that hovered close to a smirk, glancing to Jackie. “And she makes sure we all know it.” Michael squeezed her hand, the puzzled look still on his face. “I’ll be back.” As he left, the woman came in to stand at the foot of Jackie’s bed. For the first time since opening her eyes, she really focused on the room other than the cursory glance to orientate herself. She thought she remembered it, and realized it was the room she and Michael had been in when she figured out the telekinesis thing. It hadn’t had a bed in it before, but it was the same room. Sunlight streamed in from the windows directly over her, and the aroma of burning wood and coffee drifted on the air, canceling out the tinge of antiseptic she associated with hospitals and infirmaries. Kinda nice… “Are you hungry?” the nurse asked. “I can get you something.” In answer, Jackie’s stomach growled and knotted. Where was that distraction a few minutes ago when Michael had his hands on… she closed her eyes, a heated flash warming her at the thought. “Um, yeah… I haven’t eaten in… how long have I been here?” “Just today. But the woman that brought you said you were with her for two days.” “Felt like a hell of a lot longer than that. You’re new on base?” She nodded, crossing her arms to rest them on the high, polished wood footboard. “Been here about a month or so. Not exactly the fanciest base I’ve been on, but it’s out of the Areth–or, Sorracchi, whatever–line of sight so that works for me. I’m Carmen.” “Jackie…” The crying quieted down the hall, and Jackie’s cheeks heated when she realized she had been staring at the open door. “Was that Doc Quinn’s baby I heard?” “No, that was Nicole.” “Nicole?” “Michael’s daughter.” Her head snapped back so fast, a jolt of thumping pain seized her back, but Jackie just huffed through it, staring at Carmen. “Michael’s daughter?” Carmen smiled conspiratorially. “Yeah. One thing about these small bases, the gossip is always so much juicier.” Jackie stared at the woman, trying to process what she said. She knew her brain was fuzzy, but was it that fuzzy. She barely registered Carmen asking if she wanted to hear the whole scoop, and nodded in answer before she could convince herself that maybe she didn’t want to know. ***** The hydraulic release valve for the hovercraft’s engine coolant system refused to budge. Victor shifted on his back to move further under the ship, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. The interior of the barn where the hovers were kept had no central heating system and they had to rely on spot heaters, but beneath the hover the air was hot and thick as the air exchange units continued to run while he did his work. This was all he had.

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In the four months since John Smith’s arrival on the base–and the newest revelation that the Areth weren’t Areth at all, but the Sorracchi–Victor had slowly worked through what he could of his shattered and incomplete memories. Every detail he remembered now, he immediately related to either Michael or General Castleton. Most of it still didn’t make sense, and each new piece came at a price. The worst price had been Beverly. She was gone, unable to trust him. And he didn’t blame her. But he missed her. So much it hurt. He yanked the wrench away from the valve and whacked it, clenching his teeth when the anger surged through his chest. Anger was the most dangerous of emotions, he had learned. His Demon jumped at any opportunity to seize control, and when his restraint was at its weakest was when the power inside attacked. Victor closed his eyes, letting his arms drop to the hay-covered floor. He huffed several rapid breaths, willing his anger to dissipate. With a smile, he thought about one of the science fiction books Michael had loaned him. What he wouldn’t do for one of the all-purpose sonic screwdrivers mentioned in the story. “Victor?” called Doctor Patricia Byrne from somewhere past the edge of the hover. “Victor, are you here?” “I’m here,” he shouted, his own voice echoing back from the rubber and metal undercarriage. “I’ll be right out.” Tossing the wrench into the pile of tools beside him with a loud clatter, Victor shimmied his way out from under the ship, rolling to his feet as soon as he was clear. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped off his hands, using the rag to slap away the straw and dust clinging to him. “Can I help you, Doctor?” Doctor Byrne was a petite woman who barely hit the center of Victor’s chest, with deep red hair that clung to her head in small curls. Freckles smattered her cheeks and the bridge of her nose so she looked barely out of her adolescence even though he knew she was. Since leaving Colorado, she had worked hard to bring the base to operational status. She was a genius with a soldering torch and a computer motherboard. “I need your arms.” Victor grinned. “Excuse me?” Color rushed her cheeks and she flipped a curl behind her ears. “I mean, I need something moved.” He shoved the rag back in his pocket. “Lead the way.” Doctor Byrne led him to the back storage room of the barn where any excess equipment they managed to acquire was stacked from floor to ceiling, draped with tarps and blankets to protect them. Fifteen minutes later, he had found and moved the crate she needed, leaving her alone as she muttered over the electronics inside. She looked like a child with a new toy, literally. As he rounded the front end of the hover, he stopped short. Beverly stood at the front of the cavernous building beside John Smith, the true Areth that had returned with Michael from Chicago months before. It felt like an eternity. They talked with Captain Romano,

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Beverly’s hands moving gracefully through the air in front of her while it appeared John offered the translation. Victor bit down and looked away, setting his hand on the front of the hover. His chest tightened and he swallowed hard, sucking breath through his clenched teeth. For the rest of his life, he would live with the guilt of what he–and his race–had done. No punishment in the world could be worse than knowing he had hurt her, and knowing he had lost her. He had no right to love her, but he did. He had no right to ask her forgiveness… and he wouldn’t. Facing the torture of seeing her, a price he paid every day he was here, Victor glanced toward the door. His gut clenched. Her beautiful gaze held on him, her lips parted slightly, watching him. He couldn’t look away, not for all the absolution in the world. John said something to her and she turned away, nodding abruptly, but her gaze slid back to Victor again. He thought about walking away, just to the other side of the craft where he wouldn’t feel her stare like a caress and didn’t remember every moment they had spent together. Victor was fooling himself, he knew. Not seeing her didn’t wash the memories away, if anything, her absence fueled them. He crouched down, gathering the tools on the floor. The sound of graceful footsteps on the dusty wood surface forced him to look up. When she neared him, leaving John and the Captain at the door, Victor stood again. The slow burn of battle curled at the base of his skull, alerting him that his Demon watched for an opening, a moment it could snap out in attack. But he had learned the warning signs in the months since his acknowledgment of the darkness inside. Right now, he held all the power and it would take much more before he would give in. “Hello, Victor,” Beverly signed, her hands moving in small and intimate motions in the space before her breasts. “Hello, Cus–-” He stopped himself short of using the endearment he had whispered to her so many times before. Working his dirty rag between his hands, he forced himself to meet her gaze. “It’s cold in the barn. You shouldn’t be out here.” “I needed some information from Captain Romano.” “There are others who can do that for you.” His eyes shifted instinctively to John Smith where he still stood near the door. “I miss you, Victor.” His eyes darted from her hands to her face. Victor took a step closer to her, dropping his voice to a whisper so at least his part of the conversation didn’t drift back to the observers. His relationship with Beverly had already been scrutinized enough by the base staff and commentary had run rampant when it ended. He wasn’t deaf to the rumors, even if no one dared speak any of them directly to Beverly Surimoto, Second in Command. “Any response I could offer would be painfully inadequate.” This was the closest he had been to her since the day she walked away from him, and the strain she kept hidden was as obvious to him as the red-gold color of her hair. “I miss you, my beautiful Beverly.” She drew a shuddered breath, her hands trembling when she raised them again. He wanted to take them between his, to kiss her fingers, but he clutched the rag in his hands instead. “I receive every report for every new fact you’re able to give us. Does this mean your memories are clearer?”

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“They come in fragments. I’m sure some of what you read makes no sense. How can it when it makes no sense to me?” “Is there some way I can help?” He shook his head, offering a small smile. “No, my love.” Her lips tipped in a small, fleeting smile. His heart froze in his chest when she reached out and curled her delicate fingers around his wrist, squeezing lightly before pulling away. Without another word, she turned and walked back to John. Victor watched her go, his chest aching and his lungs burning. When they disappeared out the two-story swinging doors, he folded his arms on the hood of the hover and lowered his head. He didn’t feel the pain as his own nails dug into his palms.

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Chapter Four

“How do you know a woman is aroused?” CJ choked on the coffee in her mouth, grabbing a napkin to keep it from dribbling on her shirt. Michael handed her another, and she nodded in thanks, still trying to compose herself. In the past year, he’d hit her with half a dozen questions that surprised her, but this one… this one took the blue ribbon. “I’m sorry.” She raised her hand, shaking her head. “It’s okay.” He sat beside her at the small table in the corner of their humble and backward kitchen, Nicole in his lap babbling softly as she played with the edge of her blanket. The aroma of fresh coffee and toast mingled with burning wood from the stove in the next room. Every once in awhile, especially at moments like this, CJ wondered just how it all happened. She sat at a table eating breakfast with the grown son of her missing lover, who held in his arms a baby that wasn’t his, asking her about the birds and the bees. CJ finally cleared her throat, setting her elbow on the table to rest her chin in her hand. “I have to admit, this wasn’t a conversation I thought we’d be having.” “Should I not have asked?” “You can ask me anything. You know that. I just thought… well, you told me you were intimate with Renae.” His eyebrows pulled together, the same concerned, shadowed expression she had seen so many times crossing his face. “I was a child.” CJ managed to forget much of the time the darkness that shadowed the first twenty-five years of Michael’s life. It was moments like this, when he was forced to ask the questions no man his age should have to ask, and to reveal his vulnerability to the things he just simply didn’t know, that she was forced to remember. She knew very little about the woman Renae, except that Michael had cared for her and because of that, Kathleen had taken her away. Ultimately, killing her. Although he had no exact point of reference for his age before leaving New Mexico, she figured he couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Far too young to love and lose like that. She drew a long breath through her nose and reached for Nicole. Michael gave her up and CJ held the little girl against her shoulder. Bright blue eyes stared into her face, her little mouth open as she continued her never-ending string of gurgles and raspberries. CJ smiled, kissing the soft fuzz of hair on the little girl’s head. “Okay…” She trailed off. “Unfortunately, this isn’t a question that has any single answer. It’s not an A plus B equals C type of thing.” Michael hunched forward over the table, picking up his coffee mug by the rim with his long fingers, swirling the bottom on a ring of light brown liquid. He kept his gaze down, but CJ saw the strain around his eyes and mouth, the same tense lines marring his young face that she had seen on his father’s more times than she could count. Michael had been tied up in knots for months, worse than in the weeks following his liberation. He worried so much about

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being a good father, about the people he took care of, whether he knew enough or could do enough… he wanted to be everything, do everything, live everything but he couldn’t. No one could. It had to be hard to cram twenty-five years of living into a single moment. “I’m going to go out on a huge limb here and guess this is about Jackie Anderson?” His lack of an answer was the only answer she needed. She had lived with him for over a year, and knew how to read every word and every silence. CJ wondered how long it would take Jackie to learn. His brown eyes slid to her, held for several moments, then went back to staring into his half-empty cup. CJ reached her hand across the table and covered his, squeezing gently until he looked up again. “She would be a very, very lucky woman to have you in her life, Michael.” “No,” he said, his voice flat and his expression serious. “I’d be the lucky one.” CJ smiled. “Then it must be love.” His features pinched and he pulled his hand free. She felt the instant tension and withdrawal that wrapped around him. He sat back in his chair, slumping down. With a muffled groan, he scrubbed his face with his hands then pushed his fingers through his hair. He stood and took Nicole from her arms, heading for the kitchen door. “Michael,” she called after him. He stopped and looked back, his cheek resting against Nicole’s hair. “If you love her, if you think you love her, don’t—” Her own words choked her and she blinked against the tears that burned her eyes. “Don’t waste your life.” He nodded, just the slightest tip of his chin, and left her alone. ***** “This isn’t a good idea, Jackie. As your physician, I’m telling you to get back in bed.” Jackie slid a quick glance at Doc Quinn before gingerly shifting her weight to put her feet on the floor. Her back tightened, and hot tendrils of pain lashed out from her spine. She grit her teeth, her fingers curling of their own free will into the edge of the mattress. “No offense, Doc, but I gotta get out of here.” “Why? Jackie, if you exert yourself too much right now you’re just exposing yourself to more pain than necessary and possible permanent damage.” That made Jackie pause and she let her weight settle back onto the bed. She released a tense breath and looked up at the Doc, who hovered nearby with her arms crossed and a putout look on her face. “How bad can it be? It’s just a strained back, right? From the fall?” “If you don’t let those muscles heal, you’ll never regain full mobility.” Lilly arched an eyebrow. “That means you’re out of the field. Permanently.” “Damn,” Jackie cursed under her breath. “Okay, fine. How long until I’m back to normal?” “Are you in a hurry to get out of Tennessee?” Lilly asked. “I would have bet money you liked the idea of sticking around.” “Guess you would have lost. Just tell me what I need to do and how long I need to do it to get me out of this bed and off this mountain.”

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Doc Quinn took three steps backwards to snag a nearby chair, dragging it across the floor to sit beside the bed. “First thing… lay back down.” Jackie groaned loud and long, swinging her legs back onto the bed to lie back on the pile of pillows. The new position shot several pangs across her back, but as she settled, the discomfort eased. She crossed her arms behind her head so she could see the Doc better. “Okay, laying down as ordered, ma’am.” The other woman grinned, her shoulders bouncing in a silent chuckle. “Don’t worry. Bed rest isn’t the long-term treatment. In fact, we’ll be asking you to get on your feet more and more in the next few days. Get you walking, moving. No exercise or heavy work of any kind, but normal activity will do you good. We’ll keep treating it with the anti-inflammatories and heat. But we need to keep on it and make sure you don’t try too much too soon, otherwise, you’re going to have trouble for the rest of your life.” “Sounds fun.” “Hey, I’m not the one who made you jump into a frozen river. Don’t blame me.” Jackie laughed. “Yeah, well, my options were limited.” “So, what had you running out of here?” She cleared her throat and glanced toward the ceiling to keep from looking Doc Quinn straight in the eye. “Oh, you know me. I don’t like to be in on place for long. Especially like this.” “I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind sticking around this time…” Her voice trailed off, a slight hitch to her lips the hint of a smile. Jackie tamped down the swell of hurt that churned in her chest. She hadn’t let anyone get to her in a long, long time. Not since her father died. How and when Michael Tanner had managed to do it, she didn’t know, but now she was paying the consequences for letting it happen. She’d be damned if she was going to turn into some catty female who pined over the man she couldn’t have, especially since he was apparently not worth the time. “You thought wrong,” she managed to say in an impressively even tone. ***** Nick couldn’t sit still, every ounce of energy in his body screaming to pace and fidget as if somehow that would propel the Wurdvoller Fliiger faster through space. Soon… so soon… He tried to sit, but within seconds his hand tapped a sharp staccato on his thigh and his Iheel matched the rhythm. With a groan, he rolled to his feet and crossed the observation deck in several long strides, taking two seconds pause at the forward window before turning on his heels to repeat the path. The door opened, and Annora entered with Macon and Varick, two Umani officers sent with Chancellor Durin to represent Raxo, the Council of Seven and the Umani people to their lost ancestors. They had changed from the long robe-type clothes they usually wore to more utilitarian pants and tunics, the tall men in dark brown and Annora in a cream color. But Nick didn’t fail to notice the weapons strapped to their hips. Course, he didn’t blame them. He had no idea what the hell they were walking into. World War Three could have broken out while was he gone for all he knew… or, it could be just as he left it.

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“We approach your solar system, Nicholas,” Annora said, crossing to him. “The Captain expects to be within orbit of Earth in fifteen of your minutes.” “You guys are positive the Sorracchi aren’t going to pick this ship up on their scanners?” Macon smiled, a cocky grin that immediately made Nick think of Jace Quinn. He nodded his head. “You forget, Colonel. We won the war.” Nick chuckled. Macon and Varick had mastered Altenglischt during the trip from their side of the galaxy, and Macon had developed a sharp sense of humor. Or, maybe he always had it, but without the joke being lost in translation, Nick thought him to be a funny guy. “If we depart for the Embarkation Room now, we will reach it as we descend into orbit,” Annora said, motioning toward the door. “That’s the matter transporter thing, right?” “Yes.” Nick tried not to wince, but figured he didn’t do a very good job when Annora stopped and stared at him. “Is there something that troubles you?” “Nah, nothing more than half a dozen bad Star Trek plots.” She tilted her head, the confusion obvious in her expression. Nick waved his hand, half closing his eyes with a chuckle. Even after months with the Umani, he couldn’t help himself from slipping in an Earth reference or two that never failed to soar completely over their heads. “It would take way too long to explain.” They walked two-by-two, Nick and Annora leading, down the hall to the elevator that took them to the lower deck of the Wurdvoller Fliiger and the Embarkation Room. A uniformed officer waited for them, standing behind the control panel. As the door slid closed behind them, the small communicator pinned near Annora’s shoulder twittered. The deep voice of the captain came over the communicator, but Nick didn’t even try to pay attention. He didn’t get what they were saying when they stood right in front of him, let alone over radio waves–or whatever wave they used. Give him speed to fuel ratios to calculate, and space/distance ratios to run and he’d run the figures in his head no problem… but learn another language? Forget it. Learning Areth–or, what Queen Bryony had confirmed was Sorracchi-had taken him two years, and he only did that out of necessity. A phrase or two here and there, common questions, that he could do. Conversations were pointless. “We have slowed to quarter speed and have just passed your moon. We are tracking the positions of the three Sorracchi war ships, and have no indication they are aware of our arrival. The captain has located the facility you spoke of based on the coordinates you provided, and informed me we will take up a static orbit over the location within minutes.” Nick nodded, trying to control the pounding anticipation in his chest. He couldn’t pace, and resorted to tapping his fingers on the console beside him, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Annora’s communication badge twittered again, and she tilted her head toward it as she listened. Nick watched her face, and his anticipation turned to immediate dread when her eyes shifted to him. “What…” “Our deep scans indicate no activity within the facility, Nicholas. No energy output. No electromagnetic readings. No biologicals.”

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“We have shields…” As soon as he started to say it, he knew the justification was pointless. If the Umani could hide two ships the size of the Wurdvoller Fliiger from the Sorracchi, they could see through any shields cloaking the Mountain. “You’re sure?” Annora walked around to the working side of the console and entered some commands. She motioned for him to join her, and the scan results for the base appeared on the monitor in front of them. The mountain was dead. For two seconds, Nick’s heart stopped in his chest. “I still need to go down there.” Annora nodded. “Where is the best point of entry?” she asked as she displayed a threedimensional schematic of all twenty-some-odd levels of the barren base. Nick tapped Command in the core of the base. That was as good a place as any. She looked to the silent officer who stood ready to work the controls, and instructed him of their final destination. “Do you have flashlights?” “Flash. Lights?” Nick tapped the back of one hand into the palm of the other. “Yeah, artificial light sources. It’s going to be damn dark in there.” Varick nodded his understanding and moved to the far wall. As he reached it, a panel slid open, revealing a sundry of equipment including weaponry. He removed four flat, circular devices with straps along the back and handed one to each of them when he returned. “On your hand,” he said, holding his hand up palm out to show Nick how to hold the ‘flashlight’. Nick slipped the strap over his hand. “Got it.” “We’re ready, Nicholas.” Nick reluctantly followed Annora, Macon and Varick onto the glowing base of the dematerialization pad. He had gone through these a few times on Raxo and Aretu, but the thing still gave him the willies. He took his position beside Annora, with Macon and Varick behind them, as the clear shield encased the base and the control officer on the other side nodded his readiness. A low buzz whispered in Nick’s ears and the world took on a silver haze as heat flushed over his skin from head to toe. He closed his eyes against the momentary wave of nausea, and only opened them again when the heat was replaced by biting cold, like every nerve of his body was encased in ice. Instead of the Embarkation Room aboard the scout ship, Central Command shimmered in the haze. He blinked, waiting for the flashing lights to stop and the final inward tug he felt in his chest when the process was complete. He tried not to remind himself it was his molecules re-knitting themselves, but he couldn’t help it. A shudder ran up his spine. Then he looked around. In the shadows, all he saw were the outlines of abandoned equipment and the glow of auxiliary lights from machinery left to run on battery power. Nick held up his hand, and the light came on, reacting to his mental command. He was getting pretty good at that. As the beam shifted over the mangled and destroyed piles of computers and furniture, Nick’s chest squeezed. The Sorracchi had destroyed the place.

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Black soot marred the walls and the tinge of smoke and burned wires still hung in the confined air. The holo-vid table, where he had sat more times than he could count, was split down the center and lay on the floor in two pieces. Overturned chairs sat at the base of the walls. He could almost feel the rage still heavy in the air. Nick turned a slow circle, his light dueling with the lights of the other three as they all examined the carnage. “This was our center of command,” he explained, finding it hard to force the words from his throat. “I see no—” Annora paused, meeting Nick’s gaze in the contrasting light of the handheld torches. She tried to smile, and he saw the sympathy obvious in her expression. “I see no deceased, Nicholas. Perhaps those you care for were able to depart before the destruction occurred?” Nick nodded. The thought had already occurred to him, but the heavy disappointment of not finding Michael and Caitlin choked out the positive possibilities. “I need to look around. If there was time, they would have let me know… somehow…” He was already to the door and heading down the hall to the nearest stairwell. His light bounced along the floor as he ran, three others following behind as their footsteps echoed in the darkness. The initial comfort provided by the lack of bodies quickly disappeared when the black, crumpled shape of a soldier filled the beam of their lights. He was human, the uniform he wore giving away his identity. Nick swallowed hard and kept going. The stairwell door hung from its hinges, bent in half, the black burn of a pulse charge blast in the center. Nick kicked it open the rest of the way and bounded down the stairs two at a time. Two floors down, the door was closed and locked, and Nick cursed loudly as he yanked hard on the handle. “Macon,” he shouted over his shoulder as the three Umani joined him. “Your weapon.” “Step back,” Macon demanded as he pulled his energy weapon from his hip, taking aim at the lock. A blue flash of light distorted the air, blasting a hole straight through the threeinch steel. Nick pulled the sleeve of his borrowed tunic down over the palm of his hand and pulled it open. The hot metal burned his fingers, but he didn’t have time to care. With the door cracked enough to slip his foot through, he kicked it wide for the others to follow. By the time he reached the door he sought, his lungs burned from running in the musty, carnagereeking, oxygen-weak air. His lungs had grown accustomed to the oxygen-rich air of Aretu, and going to this extreme made his chest burn. He didn’t pause at the apartment door, slamming his shoulder into it to burst into the quarters beyond. Nick stumbled across the floor, almost tripping over a stool tipped over near the doorway. Macon, Varick and Annora joined him as he braced his hand against the dustcoated counter beside him and tried to catch his breath. “What is this place?” Annora asked. “This was where I lived,” Nick said, sucking in stale, thick air. “With Caitlin and my son. If there was a way to tell me where they went, they would have left it here.” Annora touched his arm as she passed by him, walking into the room. “What should we seek?” He shook his head. “It won’t be obvious. Just give me a second.” He turned into the counter and leaned on his elbows, swallowing against the cotton in his throat. His gaze

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skimmed over the thick layer of dust covering everything, telling him they had been gone a long time. A broken mug lay shattered on the counter, and beside it a faded, wilted flower. The leaves had long since turned brown and fallen away from the stem to curl on the metal counter. With the ache in his lungs eased, Nick stood and looked around trying to orientate himself. The furniture had been tipped over, the cushions ripped off, the desk in the corner smashed. Nick stepped over a broken section of the desk through the open doorway to the bedroom he had shared with Caitlin. The bed was nothing but the scorched remains left behind by a pulse charge blast, the air rancid with the smell. Nick walked around the room, looking inside the open drawers, finding nothing. As he stepped around to Caitlin’s side of the bed, something crunched beneath his foot and he lifted his boot, shining his light to the floor. The powered remains of another dried flower lay ground into the rug. Nick left the bedroom and crossed the living space to Michael’s room, finding the room in a similar condition, the bed torn apart and scorched. But one thing immediately caught Nick’s attention; the dried remains of a sunflower on the floor near Michael’s bedside table. “The Farm.” “Nicholas?” Annora asked behind him. “Come on.” Nick wondered briefly how they were doing in the poor air, but they managed to stay with him as he ran through the complex again. His chest hurt and his heart pounded furiously by the time he reached the giant hydraulic doors of the hydroponics chamber. His temples pulsed, and his vision blurred with dark spots, but he couldn’t stop now. Soon enough, once he had a clue–an idea–he’d leave. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. “You are not well. The air here is ill,” Annora said behind him, touching his shoulder. “We need to depart this place.” Nick looked at her, and saw the deep flush in her cheeks and rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe. He laid his hand on her arm, filling his lungs one last time before standing tall again. “Soon. Guys, I’m going to need your help.” With the help of the two big men, they managed to work their fingertips into the seal of the door and with a loud, combined groan they pulled the hydraulic doors apart. The rancid stench of rotting vegetation flooded the hall, hitting Nick like a slap in the face and he turned away. “Holy crap,” he mumbled, burying his face in the curve of his elbow. “Zat is eken!” Varick said from behind his hand. “No kidding,” Nick agreed, his voice muffled against his sleeve. “Stay here. I know where I’m going.” He took a deep breath of the only slightly less offensive hall air and slid through the narrow space between the heavy doors. Jogging down the pebble path, he tried to ignore the desolation surrounding him. The once green and lush chamber was black with rot and foul with the stench of death. It burned his eyes and nostrils even though he held his breath. He

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reached the marble bench where he and Caitlin had sat what seemed like a lifetime ago, and dropped to his knees on the brown, crisp grass. Nick searched the area, running his hands over and around the cold stone. A surge of excitement hit his chest when his fingertips found a piece of paper wedged in the underside of the seat, and he carefully slid it free of its hiding place. He unfolded the crisp pages enough to read his name at the top, confirming it was what he needed, and sprinted to the door. Once in the hall again, he filled his lungs and held the note to his chest. “Let’s go.” Annora tapped her communicator, and seconds later the familiar heat of dematerialization danced over his skin.

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Chapter Five

The landscape outside glistened with snow and ice, the afternoon sun so brilliant it made Michael squint. A light layer of snow had fallen during the night, leaving everything with a clean, fresh… renewed… shine. The rectangle of sunlight he stood in warmed him through his flannel shirt, sinking deep to his bones. He loved the warmth. It was so different from the smothering, dry heat of New Mexico that scratched at his throat and left his skin raw. A whisper of winter draft slipped through the ancient window frame, a sharp contrast to the warm patch he stood in. He glanced sideways to Jacqueline’s bed. She had been asleep since before he came in, and instead of slipping back out of the room, he had decided to stay. Ineffectively, he tried to convince himself that he was staying out of concern for her well-being. As her physician. Deep down, he knew it was–as his father would say–crap. She challenged him. She confused him. She pushed him. And every time he thought of her, a warmth spread through his chest and a lightness invaded his limbs. Despite the pleasant euphoria, doubt curled in the back of his mind like sooty smoke. Jacqueline knew only the barest details of who he was and where he had spawned from… what evil bore him. Logically, he knew that he held no actual genetic link to the monster Kathleen. Her sadistic mind was just the Sorracchi parasite that invaded the body of some human woman long ago. They were two entities sharing one body, and it was the body that contributed to half his DNA, not the mind. Logic didn’t chase away the demons. There was logic and there was reality. Yes, he felt something for Jacqueline he felt for no other person. But, did he have any right to this? He knew little of relationships, even less of love–that kind of love–what could he give her? He wanted to give her everything, and that simple thought terrified him. If you love her, if you think you love her… don’t waste your life. He stared down at her, swallowing. Her black hair fanned across her shoulders and the pillow. One arm rested on her pillow, the wrist turned out, near her cheek. She was beautiful. Michael had always thought Caitlin beautiful, from the first time he saw her in the halls of the New Mexico facility. And Lilly. But they were a different kind of beautiful to him, and his breath didn’t catch in his chest when he saw them. Jacqueline stirred, her head rolling slowly on the pillow to face away from him. Michael watched silently as she drew a long, deep breath, releasing it with the same steady focus. She laid the back of her hand against her forehead, her eyes closed and he waited to see if she would slip back into sleep. Moments later, she opened them again and pushed her arms beneath the blanket to try to shift her weight. He stepped away from the window and her head snapped around to glare up at him. “Jeez, Michael. You scared the crap out of me.” “I apologize,” he said, crouching beside the bed to move his arm behind her shoulders. She slid him a sharp glance but allowed him to help her find a more comfortable position. “How do you feel?”

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“Like crap,” she mumbled, letting her head fall back on the pillow. “Like someone has poured cement in my veins.” He stayed in his crouched position, resting his hand on the bed. “Are you in any pain?” “No.” Her voice was tight, strained and short. “Just off.” “I am going to increase your heat therapy. And I want to begin a massage routine—” “Who? You?” Something about the way she snapped off the question made Michael pause, and he studied her expression before answering. Deep furrows marred her forehead and she looked at him through squinted eyes, her lips not quite a frown but hovering on the edge of becoming one. She worked her jaw, rolling her gaze toward the ceiling when he didn’t answer immediately. “You’re angry with me.” “Why the hell would I be angry with you?” The higher pitch of her voice told him again what her words hadn’t, and he tried to imagine what he had done. When his father first took him from New Mexico, and brought him to Colorado to live, he had worried about everything he did and said, every question he asked, that he might inadvertently anger someone. For twenty-five years, the wrong action or word meant pain and punishment. He had eventually learned that he faced no punishments here, and he would anger people–but, right now, he didn’t know why. Michael stood and walked to the foot of the bed, pushing his hands into his pockets. Jacqueline avoided his eyes, turning her head to the right. After several moments of silence stretched out, she huffed and rolled her head on the pillow to glare at him down the length of the bed. “That silent treatment is damn annoying.” He opened his mouth, pausing, sorting his thoughts. “I don’t understand what is different.” Jacqueline huffed a choked laugh and draped her arm across her eyes. “What’s different? A hell of a lot of things are different, Michael.” She dropped the arm away, meeting his gaze. “You’ve been away a long time—” “And don’t I know it? I guess this is what happens when you’re out of the loop.” “What is this?” She shook her head and looked away. Michael slid a hand from his pocket and curled his fingers around the wooden footboard. He fought the urge to turn and walk out, to clear his head and piece together the puzzle. But he remembered Caitlin’s words about his ‘escapism’, as she had called it, being extremely frustrating to those who only wanted to understand. He ran the side of his thumb over the smooth wood, deciding to change the topic. He needed to tell her what they found, that the Sorracchi had taken something from her. Michael didn’t know if she was aware, or how she would react. Drawing a deep breath, he raised his head and met her stern gaze. “I have something to tell you.” “No need to,” she tacked on quickly. “I know about Nicole.”

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Michael blinked, thrown off by the sharp turn in topic. “I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing. “I wanted to tell you.” “It’s a small base. Word travels fast.” She sat up slowly, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. Michael felt the jerk in his chest to help her, but held back, sensing she didn’t want or need his help as much as he needed to give it. When she sat upright, she gripped the edge of the mattress, her back slightly hunched. “I guess the politically correct thing to say is ‘congratulations’ and ‘I’m happy for you’, right?” ***** She had sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to be the catty female who pined away over the man she couldn’t have. Jackie Anderson had never been that woman, and she wasn’t about to turn into one now. No matter how much her heart ached. She leaned forward, slowly moving to her feet. From the corner of her eye, she saw the shift in his stance, but he stopped short of stepping toward her. With a sharp expulsion of air, Jackie pushed herself to her feet. Ripples of tension shifted across her back, but no blinding pain. It hurt, yes… but she wasn’t ready to admit it. Not yet. Not to him. She couldn’t take an exam from Michael, even as annoyed as she was with him and herself. Another day or two, and her defenses would be strong again. She swallowed and turned to face him, hiding behind her best poker face. “So, tell me about your daughter.” “She’s beautiful,” he said without hesitation, smiling. “You can see her soon. Caitlin has her, but they’ll be here late.” Jacqueline swallowed and nodded, but kept her expression emotionless. “You two have the cottage at the top of the hill, right?’ Small talk… she could do small talk… Michael didn’t answer; just stood at the end of the bed and watched her, studied her, his eyes shifting only slightly as his gaze shifted over her face, flicking down for the briefest of seconds to her lips before coming back to her eyes. Jacqueline clenched her hands in her lap and tried to convince herself he wasn’t looking at her the way he always had. He couldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. Then again, according to Carmen, that quiet look of his was a damn powerful weapon against the unwitting female. “Nicole,” she said, clearing her throat. “That’s a pretty name. Did you name her after your father?” He nodded, still silent. “I never met your father, but I’ve heard a lot about him. He’s a hero.” A small smile ticked the corner of his lips. “Caitlin thinks he will–how did she put it– get a kick out of having a girl named after him.” “CJ knew your father?” Michael nodded, the other corner of his mouth tipping up into a slow, sexy grin and she wondered what she said to make him look at her that way. “Yes. They knew each other for a long time.” Jacqueline set her hands at her waist and walked slowly, gingerly to the window. The landscape outside was brilliant, but just the sight of the snow made her cold to her bones. The memory of ice-cold water crashing over her head–sucking the air from her lungs–flashed

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through her. Shards of ice cutting her skin. The twist of her body when it impacted with the hard surface, only to crash through. She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus on the conversation. Of the two choices, this conversation with Michael seemed like the easiest to deal with. Black memories would be there tomorrow, and the day after. “You and Caitlin must be very happy,” she managed to say. With the same small smile on his lips, he walked around the end of the bed toward her. Joining her, he looked out the window before he answered. “Both Caitlin and I are happy with Nicole in our lives.” “Good,” she said, the word strangled and lost somewhere before it left her lips. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Good. I really am glad for you, Michael, even if I didn’t sound it before.” “Jacqueline…” he said, the same rough weight to his voice, as he reached across the space between them. His warm palm skimmed across the back of her hand as he wrapped his fingers around hers, and she sucked in a breath to tamp down the shiver that threatened to dance up her spine. “Caitlin isn’t my lover. She’s my mother.” Her heart pounded in her chest several times before the words sank in, and she blinked rapidly, staring at him. “Excuse me?” Momentarily thrown, Jacqueline shook off the intense physical reaction to his simple act of taking her hand. “What the hell did you mean by that?” “Caitlin and I share a home. She is helping me raise Nicole, but she has never been or will she ever be my lover.” “She’s your mother… Michael, that’s not possible. CJ and I are almost the same age… she can’t… and besides, you told me your mother was… what are you smiling at?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “I apologize, Jacqueline,” he said, obviously attempting to restrain his grin. “When I realized what you assumed, I should have told you.” “That still doesn’t explain… she can’t be your mother. She isn’t or what you told me before was a lie.” “It wasn’t a lie. Caitlin and I have a different truth.” “A different truth… what the hell does that mean?” Michael looked over his shoulder at a soft knock at the door. After he called out a ‘come in’, CJ entered the room, carrying Nicole in her arms. CJ took her hand temporary from Nicole’s back to wave as she walked towards them. When Jacqueline looked back to Michael, his smile had eased into a softer expression, his eyes sparkling with a deep-set joy. “If I’ve learned anything in the last year, Jacqueline…I’ve learned biology often has very little to do with being a parent.” CJ reached them, greeting Jacqueline with a smile as she handed the baby off to Michael. The baby’s face lit up when she saw her father, and something tugged at the center of Jacqueline’s chest. She stepped back, observing the two together as CJ relayed to Michael all the events of the morning; who Nicole had visited with, when she had eaten last, how long she had napped. They still looked like a happy little family to her. “You’re his mother?” she blurted out, realizing far too late the question was out of her mouth.

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CJ paused mid-sentence and looked up, an expression of surprise on her face. She looked from Jacqueline to Michael, who remained silent and rubbed his cheek against the soft down on Nicole’s head. CJ cleared her throat and rubbed her hands together. “Did you tell her that?” “Shouldn’t I have?” “No, but…” She looked at Jackie and smiled. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’m his mother. In a non-conventional way.” “And just how is that?” “Did I… did I come at a bad time?” she asked, motioning between Michael and Jacqueline. “Because I could go…” “Please…” Jacqueline said slowly. “I don’t intend to be rude, but, I’m confused as hell and I don’t like being confused.” Michael looked to CJ and nodded. She smiled at both of them, and without a word, turned and walked back out of the room. With a hitch of his chin, Michael motioned for Jackie to go back to the bed. Squinting as she tried to process his off-handed revelation, Jackie shuffled back to the bed and sat at the head, a pillow behind her back to cushion her spine against the wood. Michael sat facing her, his bent knee resting on the blanket. He took a moment to settle the squirming, chattering baby into the curve of his leg. “You know who my biological mother is,” he said after several moments of silence. “I’ve only told you the surface. The rest… the deep truth…” His voice faded and fell away. Jacqueline saw a dark shadow pass over his expression, the intensity of his emotion at that moment visible. He kept his gaze cast down, focusing on the infant supported in the valley of his thighs. When he looked up, he had regained his control and his features were once again calm and composed. “In the simplest terms, Nick Tanner is my father and Caitlin Montgomery is my mother.” “You going to expand on that someday?” He nodded, his lower lip curling in as he ran the tip of his tongue over it. “Yes,” he said. “Someday.” She ran her hand over her hair, looking down at the baby. “Okay, so, I heard—” Jackie cleared her throat, feeling the rush of heat in her cheeks for listening to rumors. She’d struck out once, and pretty much figured she’d be going two-for-two. “I heard Amber was Nicole’s mother… and you’re her father.” “Amber was her mother. She died in childbirth.” Jacqueline squinted at Michael, a niggling feeling prickling at the back of her neck and she rolled forward until she knelt in the center of the bed, so close her knees brushed Michael’s leg. She looked down at Nicole, at her big blue eyes and reddish-tinted hair, and then into Michael’s face. He met her gaze, and Jacqueline’s breath caught. “You’re not her father,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Biology has very little to do with being a parent,” he repeated. Jacqueline sat back and shook her head. “Michael Tanner, you never cease to completely blow me away.”

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Chapter Six

“Why did you pick the name John Smith?” Beverly did her best to keep her eyes on the Areth soldier as they walked, while still paying attention to the icy ground beneath her feet. An inch of snow had fallen during the night, leaving the trees frosted with white and the walking interesting. He gripped her elbow as they walked his other hand tucked behind his back. “I didn’t.” He smiled, the lines around his mouth angling away at the subdued grin. “It’s my name.” “Really?” she signed. “It just seems so…” She tipped her hand back and forth indecisively. “Human? Is that so surprising?” “I suppose part of me still has a hard time accepting that we’re all joined somehow. It seems very…cosmic.” He tipped his head and laughed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing in his lean neck. That was John Smith, angles and lines and lanky limbs. He was tall, at least six feet, but the cut of his frame and the lanky way he moved his body made him seem taller. When he moved, she thought of Victor. Sinewy strength hidden behind a tightly-bound mass of muscle. “I come from a long line of John Smiths. I’m technically the…“ He looked skyward, his head ticking back and forth in small movements as he seemed to silently count. “The thirtyfourth John Smith in my family.” Beverly smiled, shaking her head. “That’s quite a legacy.” “Well, John Smith the seventeenth was a bit of an embarrassment, but other than that…” They reached the porch for Command Hall and he slid his hand to her back as she maneuvered the iced steps. John was wonderfully sweet, and his subtle humor and even more subtle smiles always managed to lift her heart and make her forget sometimes, even if only briefly. But she felt nothing from his touch other than the warmth and comfort of contact. And the subtle hum. In her life, she had encountered perhaps two-dozen people who woke up something deeper in the back of her mind when they touched. Sometimes, it was a hum–subtle and low. Sometimes, it was a flash of cold heat that set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. She had felt it with Nick Tanner, and even Jace Quinn to a small degree. Victor had been, by far, the most pronounced but she believed that stemmed from the deeper connection they had from the beginning. She blinked and looked down, pretending to watch her step carefully. Thoughts of Victor made her heart ache for missing him, and she wondered sometimes what he had done that was so terribly wrong. They stepped inside the common room, and the heat from the fireplace flushed her cheeks. Beverly quickly shrugged out of her heavy coat, leaving it hanging by the door. A couple dozen of the base personnel mulled around in the room. This was a place of relaxation,

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where they could eat or read or talk with friends. This rudimentary base didn’t have the kinds of recreational facilities their Colorado base had, but no one seemed to mind. Here, they could forget about the horrors around the world. At least for a little while. A gust from the doorway as a group of people left tugged at her hair, pulling loose curls across her eyes. She wrapped the curl around her finger and flipped it behind her ear, catching John watching her. Beverly arched an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Sometimes, you remind me a great deal of someone.” “Who?” He smiled, but there was a melancholy touch to it. Like Michael, John hid things behind his eyes that Beverly doubted he would ever reveal. It had to be hard for him, being the only of his race on an entire planet with no way home in the foreseeable future. His arrival had renewed everyone’s hope that Nick Tanner’s journey might not be impossible, and they all hung on to the hope that he would return. Still, he was a man without a home–a people– until then. If ever. “My Queen,” he said, touching her arm as they walked toward a nearby table. “Queen Bryony the Fourteenth of Aretu.” “Your people certainly like to reuse names.” She nudged his side with her elbow, teasing him gently. This time, his smile held a spark. “Never give up a good thing.” As gentle as a lover’s caress, Beverly felt the touch of Victor’s presence. It smoothed over her skin and bubbled in her blood. Even after months of no physical contact with him, her body knew him. She turned her head, glancing toward the massive inglenook that took up half the center wall. Huge fieldstones and mortar formed the hearth, with a three-foot deep ledge where people often sat to bask in the ambient heat of the fire. Victor stood to the side of the open fire pit, one foot set on the ledge and one arm draped across the thick, wooden mantle that ran the length of the stone. He held a mug in the other hand, but didn’t drink from it. His dark eyes were on her, watching her from across the span of the room. He had felt her just as she felt him. That was who they were. She watched, holding her breath, as his gaze dropped away and he stared for a moment into his cup before swallowing whatever was left. He set the mug on the ledge and lowered his foot to the floor. Only then did he raise his head again and meet her gaze. Beverly drew a sharp breath into her burning lungs. Her heart pounded in her chest and slow heat rolled through her from the intensity in his eyes. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he lowered his head and turned, leaving the common room through one of the back entry doors. Beverly blinked, swallowing hard. John’s touch at her elbow yanked her back to the moment. She turned her head to look at him, noting the deep lines of concern across his brow and the downturn of his lips. She shook her head, her hands trembling slightly when she raised them to sign. “Please don’t say anything.” He nodded, conceding reluctantly. Silas, the boy John took as his son, ran across the room to meet them. His smile was a bright flash of white against the dark, rich color of his

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skin as he tugged at John’s sleeve for attention. John smiled down at the boy, resting his hand on Silas’s shoulder. “Go to the table. We’re coming.” Silas ran off again, a bundle of energy and enthusiasm. He had come out of his shell since their arrival in Tennessee. John had told her that Silas had watched his mother die, and hadn’t spoken a word for days afterwards, refusing to leave John’s side. Although John barely knew Cloe Cook, he couldn’t turn away her young son when he had nothing. And now, much like Michael and Nicole, they were a family. There was no doubt how John loved the boy, she saw it in his eyes. Pushing aside the ache in her chest, she walked with John to the table where Silas waited. ***** Michael opened the door to Jacqueline’s room, and paused with his hand wrapped around the knob. Jacqueline stood at one of the windows, her arms crossed over her abdomen and her face turned to the waning afternoon sunlight. Darkness came early, casting a silvergray shadow over the snowy landscape. He had gone to put Nicole down for her nap with every intention of returning as soon as possible to Jacqueline. But, a mechanic had come in with a cut on his hand and then he helped Lilly treat another minor injury. Nearly two hours had gone by before he finally found himself free, and by then Nicole had woken again. Caitlin offered to take her home, and he willingly complied. He didn’t like the tired shadows under Caitlin’s eyes, and an afternoon at the cottage away from the grind of the infirmary would do her good. If he could, he intended to convince her to take the next day off. Just to rest. Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder, and smiled when she saw him. Even across the room, he saw the strain around her eyes and the mask she wore to hide her discomfort. Michael shut the door and crossed the room. “Your back hurts,” he stated, giving her no room for argument or denial. “Some. Nothing I can’t deal with. You’ve been gone awhile. I figured I pissed you off again.” “Again?” “I’ve been known to put my foot in my mouth a few times with you.” He couldn’t help his smirk at the imagery. “I had to take care of some things.” “Nicole?” “Caitlin took her home.” He stepped behind Jacqueline and laid his hand on her lower back, hearing her soft gasp. He tried to feel the muscles through the bulky material, but it was difficult. “I should apply some heat to your back.” “No,” she said quickly. “Much more heat, and my flesh is going to fall off the bone like a slow-cooked roast. It’ll be fine once I work the kinks out. Jeez, give a girl some warning!” Michael slid his hands beneath her sweater, laying his palms on her skin. He felt the heat radiating from her body and the tight twist to her muscles, Stepping closer, he slid his hands over her back and pressed his thumbs along her spine. Jacqueline’s arms came up and she braced her palms on each side of the window, her head tipped back. Black hair slid across her shoulders, the scent of her shampoo mingling in

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the air. Michael closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feel of her body, of the places that needed his attention, and not the nearness that muddled his senses. Her ribs expanded beneath his hands and he worked his thumbs in small circles, pushing firmly but only hard enough to massage and not bruise or hurt. Jacqueline hummed. “Does this help?” he asked. “It’s doing something, that’s for sure.” Her voice was rough, purring from a spot deep in her throat. “Turn around.” Jacqueline turned within the circle of his hands, his palms skimming her stomach as she faced him. “Put your arms around my neck and lean into me.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright as she looked at him. “Trust me.” She did as he said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, letting him support her weight. He slowly but firmly massaged the muscles along her spine, pulling her into him. Michael closed his eyes when she groaned softly, her breath warming his neck. He circled his fingers further up her back, feeling the ridges of her ribs beneath his touch and the pearly strand of her spine. Her back was bare, no undergarments to hinder his touch, and he tried to ignore the heat emanating from every point of contact between his body and hers. He stopped the deep massage, letting his hands slide over her skin with a gentle touch. His palms explored her back and shoulders and down her trim sides to the waist of her pants that hung low on her hips. Her fingers slipped into his hair. “Michael, am I alone here?” Her voice was rough and whispered near his ear. He scowled, pulling back to study her face. “I’m here.” Her hands shifting across the back of his neck and shoulders to rest above his elbows. He let his palms slide naturally to her back again, splaying over her warm skin. A voice in the back of his mind told him he should take his hands away. To touch her, skin-to-skin, as her caregiver was acceptable. But, at this moment, he felt as far from her doctor as he could be. “Trust me, there is no doubt in my mind just how here you are. What I mean is…am I alone with just how nuts it makes me to have you this close? Touching me?” Michael swallowed, watching the small dimple that threatened to appear in her cheek each time her lips curled up in a smile. He compulsively tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer, and her eyelids slid heavily over her eyes. “No,” he finally managed to say through the desert in his throat. “Are you planning on doing anything about it any time soon?” He slid his hand along her spine, the hem of her sweater slipping up her stomach. Her muscles slowly rolled beneath his touch. She sighed, her head tipping back slightly and Michael watched, mesmerized. The arch of her neck was beautiful, and the flash of desire to press his mouth to her skin surprised and shook him. His blood hummed just beneath the surface of his skin, and the layers of clothing he wore in defense against the drafts and chill in the old building now smothered him. Without making the conscious decision to do it, Michael leaned closer to her, speaking close to her cheek. “What do you want me to do?” Her breath skimmed his skin and her lips parted, dark eyes watching him. “That’s a loaded question.”

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“Tell me.” “Kissing me might be a good start.” Michael pulled one hand free from its warm place beneath her sweater to lay his palm against her cheek. His lungs burned and he carefully schooled each breath, his heart pounding hard, rushing blood hot and thick through his veins. He touched her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, and she parted them, her warm, trembling breath warming his skin. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the glistening smoothness on the inside of her lip and the tip of her tongue as it moistened her skin, brushing his thumb. The need to follow her tongue and taste her crashed into him, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips brushed along each other, open and slick, and her soft moan whispered between them. Michael hovered over her, matching her movements as she tipped her chin, letting their breath mingle together. He still needed to taste her, to know the feel of her wet lips. Slowly, he slid his tongue against her lips, her teeth and finally her own tongue, and pure energy vibrated through him. He pushed his fingers into her hair, the silken threads weaving around his hand, as he tilted her head and let the power of the jolt reverberate from head to toe. Her hands curled into his shirt and he pulled her harder against him, the need to be careful a persistent whisper in the back of his mind. The slow, learning kiss catapulted into a devouring need. Only when the demand for oxygen overpowered the fury did Michael break the contact, pulling deep breaths of air into his burning lungs as he rested his forehead against hers. A small tremor shifted through her and he pulled her closer, once again sliding both hands beneath the sweater to touch her skin. Her skin. Silk and satin and heat. Michael swallowed his groan. “Damn,” Jacqueline finally said, breaking the sound of their rasped and out-of-sync breathing. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Michael shook his head, letting his forehead roll against hers. He couldn’t form a thought, let alone an answer, and pulled her closer. He wanted to kiss her again, wanted it as much as he wanted to live, but didn’t trust himself to do it. His body screamed for more. Screamed too loud and too hard to be ignored. He pulled her closer and pressed his face into the fragrant curve of her throat. ***** “Hey, Darlin’. I’ve been looking for you.” Lilly held her finger to her lips, carefully pulling closed the door to Jackie’s room. She tiptoed down the hall to Jace, grinning until her cheeks hurt. He tried to see past her, but she pushed her hands against his chest and urged him away from the room. “What’s the big secret?” Lilly giggled, squeezing her husband’s hand as she led him down the hall. “They’re kissing,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Who?” “Michael and Jackie.” “No way!”

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“Shhhhhh!” she hissed through pursed lips, dragging him further down the hall. “They might hear us.” “What, and find out you were spying on them?” “I wasn’t spying.” Jace cocked an eyebrow at her. “I wasn’t! I was just going to check on her. I can’t help what I happened to almost stumble in on.” Jace laughed and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his chest. She linked her hands behind his back and leaned into him, loving the feel of his strength beneath her hands. After losing him for so long, she reveled in every opportunity to be close. Heat flashed over her skin as she remembered the twenty minutes they spent in the supply room that morning. He laid his large, warm hands against the sides of her head and leaned in for a long, deep kiss that turned her insides to liquid heat. Just as she felt the shift in the touch, the moment when the simple kiss could turn into another supply room visit, he pulled back, running his tongue over his lower lip as if tasting her there. “Can’t go there, Darlin’.” Lilly huffed. “Are you on your way out?” “In two and two, yep. They’re waiting for me at the barn.” “Promise me you’ll be careful.” Even though it was just a quick scouting mission, Lilly’s insides twisted with panic. Jace kissed the end of her nose. “I promise. I’ll be back in two days at the most. We’re not planning anything fancy.” “It’s the things you don’t plan on that worry me.” He kissed her again and stepped out of her embrace. As he stepped away, his hand slid down her arm to squeeze her fingers one last time. “I love you. Kiss Jamie for me.” “I will. Be safe.” He smiled, and walked the rest of the way down the hall. Lilly watched with her heart in her throat, her hands clutched in front of her. She heard a door behind her and turned to see Michael walking toward her, his hands pushed into his pockets and a look on his face she could only describe as giddy with a hint of holy crap. His gaze connected with hers, and Lilly tried to suppress her smirk by pulling her lip through her teeth. “Hi,” she said, choking on her giggle. A flash of color took over his entire face, and she knew he knew she knew. “Not a word,” he mumbled, brushing past her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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Chapter Seven Nicky I can only pray that somehow by the grace of God you are reading this letter. Because if you are, you did what you promised and never gave up. Please know that as I write this we are fighting our way out of the Mountain. But we are still fighting… still alive. Both of us. It has been so lonely without you. I miss you beside me each night. Michael missed you on his thirty-sixth birthday. We thought of you. You’ve done the hard part. You’ve traveled across the galaxy and back again. You’ve come home. Now, find us, Nicky. Find us. I love you. We love you. I know you’ll find us. And when we’re both eighty, we’ll look back and know it was all worth the pain. Nick sat on the edge of the berth in his quarters aboard the Wurdvoller Fliiger, hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees and Caitlin’s note held in his fingers. He read the words again and again, letting his eyes linger on her soft sloping penmanship, trying to see in it whatever it was she knew he would. Because there had to be something there. Now, find us, Nicky. Find us. Where are you…? Nick closed his eyes and tapped his forehead with the edge of the letter. Frustrated, he launched off his bed and crossed the compact travel quarters to the window that faced down to Earth. Through the swirls of white clouds, Nick made out the coastline of the African continent and the Indian Ocean. He raised his arm and rested it on the thick window, lifting the note again to read the words. Thirty-six… eighty… They meant something… they were the key. He stared at the familiar planet. So close to home… yet so damn far away. He wouldn’t be home until he saw her, held her, held his son. A lead ball had lodged itself in the center of his chest since he first read the letter. When she wrote it, they were alive… but they weren’t free. They hadn’t made it out of the Mountain yet. Decayed remains littered nearly every level, heaviest around the shuttle bay. Even though he was terrified at what he might find, Nick had returned to the macabre halls to walk amongst the fallen. He prayed with every black body he found. They had been forced to wear environmental suits when they returned to allow them to breathe and move for any length of time in the dark, deserted halls.

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So far, he had been lucky. “Oh, darling…” he said to the empty room. “What does it mean?” Thirty-six… eighty… thirty-six… eighty… “Thirty-six,” he said aloud, staring through the glass to the continent below. Prickles of awareness skittered up the back of his neck and he shifted back. “Eighty. Thirty-six! Eighty!” He spun on the balls of his feet and slid between the space of his quarters doors before they had a chance to open completely. Nick jogged down the winding hall, brushing past several startled Areth and Umani. He mumbled quick apologies he knew most of them wouldn’t understand and finally reached the nearest elevator. Nick slapped his hand against the glowing, half-globe that served as the call button and braced his hands against either side of the silver frame. “Come on… come on… come on….” His blood nearly bubbled with excitement, his heart hammering viciously in his chest. Caitlin… beautiful, clever, wonderful Caitlin… she led him home. Well, if he was right she led him close enough that he could do the rest. The doors swished open and he hopped the doorway, garnering wide-eyed stares from the two tall Umani shipmates already in the cube. Nick glanced toward the ceiling, shuffling through his head for the word he needed. “Damn… ah, I need the bridge,” he said to one of the men beside him, getting only an odd stare in return. Ninety-five percent of the scout ship’s crew still didn’t know how to deal with Nick’s odd human behaviors. “Bridge. The Bridge. You know…” He simulated the ship flying through space with a flat hand, even adding a rattling engine sound, then an invisible steering wheel in his hands. “Bridge.” The Umani to his left said something in his native tongue, and it immediately clicked in Nick’s excitement-rattled head. “Yes!” He repeated the command, and the elevator shifted into motion again. He swore they must have orbited the planet twice before the doors opened. Annora was on the bridge when he stepped off the elevator, and both she and Captain Diedrick looked up when he arrived. He practically jumped free of the elevator and braced his hands on the upper-level railing, swinging over it to land squarely a few feet down. “Is something wrong, Nicholas?” Annora asked, staring at him with the same wide eyes as everyone else. He shook his head, unable to help the grin on his face. “Pull up the navigational charts we transferred from my glider. Please,” he added. “Of course.” She moved to a free console and sat down. Nick paced restlessly behind the chair, tapping his fingers against his hips as she accessed the data he had brought with him months before. “What do you seek?” “Global coordinates,” he said, draping his arm across the back of her chair to lean forward. He was pretty damn sure he knew where the numbers would lead, but he wanted to make sure before he said anything more. “I have some numbers I need you to enter and determine the location.” She nodded, and finished bringing up the information. Nick tapped his fingers on the back of the chair, willing the super-fast computer system to access the data faster.

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“I’m prepared.” With a quick huff, Nick looked at the note again. “Latitude equals 36 degrees. Longitude equals 80 degrees.” Annora’s fingers tapped as he spoke, and the three-dimensional globe on her monitor spun with each new point of direction until finally a small red square flashed on the North American continent. Nick leaned in, his heart pounding, the urge to dance around the bridge almost uncontainable. He tapped the monitor. “Here. Here is where I need to be. Smokey Mountains, Tennessee.” “This is a large area, Nicholas.” He nodded. “I know. Can we do some kind of general sweep for life signs or something when we get there? They’ll be clustered together, most likely away from any local town. Somewhere isolated.” After relaying the coordinates to the navigational officer, she entered a new set of commands into her console and the read-out shifted. The topography of the continent below them appeared. Nick felt the shift of the ship as they left their static orbit, and the image on the console shifted with them. Clusters of flashing red dots hovered in various areas of the giant African continent, but as they moved, he leaned forward to study the pattern. “That doesn’t look right.” Annora’s eyes shifted to him. “The information we have gathered from orbit has troubled me, and I intended to inquire with you.” Nick pointed to various spots on the passing landscape that indicated deep concave pits. In most areas, no flashing red indicators flashed… none at all. No life. His stomach clenched and his chest hurt. “Damn.” “We have found similar readings on every major land mass.” “Show me a globe.” She responded immediately, and the three-dimensional image shifted to a slowly rotating sphere, each continent outlined against the massive oceans surrounding it. Nick pointed toward the Northern American continent. “Show me details for this continent. Show me where you found these craters.” The sphere zoomed in and Nick had to close his eyes. Black crevices scarred the North American continent, like bullet wounds in sheet metal. New York. Chicago. Seattle. Los Angeles. Orlando. Houston. Gone. All gone. The voice of the navigational officer forced Nick to open his eyes again, a bitter tang burning the back of his throat. What had happened? What had the Sorracchi done? How many were dead? A dozen questions collided in his head, making his temples throb. “We are in orbit over the general coordinates you provided, Nicholas.” Clearing his throat, he focused on her console. “I need topography and life signs.” Before the request was out of his mouth, the image shifted. He scanned the image, calculating probabilities and strategies in his head. Nick reached past Annora’s shoulder and pointed to a very small cluster of flashing red lights, like tiny heartbeats. “Here. This is where they are, I’d bet my life on it.”

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Annora looked up at him, the smallest hint of a smile touching her lips. “When you are ready, Nicholas.” ***** “You know you have to actually look at the paper to do the work, right?” Michael raised his head, looking up from the stack of base medical inventory he had been blankly studying for the last thirty minutes, and glanced over the top of his glasses at Victor. He smiled and slid the glasses off, setting them upside down on the stack. With a tired groan, he rubbed his face with his palms. “Sit down, my friend. Give me an excuse for my distraction.” “Are you sure? You look busy.” He was busy, but he was also distracted. Michael couldn’t focus… a strange sensation niggling in the back of his mind that wouldn’t let him see the reports. They just blurred in front of his eyes, meaningless. He spent most of the night pacing the floor and staring out into the moonlit night. Ironically, Nicole had slept soundly, barely waking at all. More than once, when the frustration of exhaustion clashed with the need to go somewhere or do something–the ‘where’ and ‘what’ he didn’t know–he almost wished his daughter would wake up just so he had the company. “I am always busy,” he said with a smile. “Sit. It’s been too long since we talked.” Victor stepped over the bench seat on the other side of the table and sat. Michael noted the dark stains of grease and oil that had embedded themselves into the creases of his nowcalloused hands, and the two-day growth of dark hair that shadowed his jaw line. Since the day the ultimate truth about their invaders was revealed, and Victor’s deception–whether intentional or not–came to light, he had become a different man. Instead of saving his hands for lab work and delicate medical procedures, the way he had been trained since the dawn of his existence, he now worked as a mechanic, handyman, or whatever else he could do. If it pushed him physically, mentally, he did it. He was a different man. Beyond the physical, the darkness that hovered like a veil over his eyes was a testament to who he had become. It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Somehow, Michael didn’t believe that for Victor. He had never contemplated or wished for love, and when he found it with Beverly, it had turned his existence upside down. Now, Michael imagined he no longer knew who he was without her. “You are distracted,” Victor said. “For you not to answer when I ask about Nicole, your mind must be far away from here.” Michael blinked and focused on Victor again. “I’m sorry. She is wonderful.” Habitually, he glanced down to the basket that sat on the bench beside him. Nicole was awake, toying with the satin edge of her blanket, tugging at it in an attempt to get it inside her mouth. Victor ran his fingers across his chin, his whiskers scratching beneath his skin. “I heard that Jackie Anderson is back on base. I’m surprised she isn’t here with you. Could this be the reason for your distraction?” Michael rubbed his hand across the back of his neck beneath his collar and the scruffy ends of his hair. Something nudged at the edge of his mind, tickling, making his skin crawl and itch. It was like knowing something was about to happen, but not knowing what. Like

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reading that suspenseful scene in a book–knowing that in the next paragraph or the next page something wonderful or terrifying would happen–wanting to get to it, but not quite knowing what you’d find. “She’s joining me shortly,” Michael mumbled, realizing he hadn’t answered Victor. He tried to pull his focus back in, to the moment, but his senses skittered away like smoke. “Jacqueline can truly be distracting, but…” Victor squinted, watching Michael. “What is it?” “I don’t know.” Despite the manner they had come to know each other, and the environment their friendship grew in, Michael found it easiest to speak to Victor over anyone else. Even Caitlin. He knew that if he tried to explain this to her, she would frown and deep lines would cross her forehead. She worried about him, and he didn’t like to make her worry. It was why he hadn’t told her about the telekinesis when it first manifested. Why he didn’t tell her he still had headaches that nearly put him on his knees and blackened his vision. “Tell me.” Michael did his best to explain the urgent pull, the need to seek out whatever haunted him, and the frustration at not having any idea what it was. Victor listened silently until he was done. “Has this happened to you before?” He shook his head. “Not that I…” He trailed off, his mind reaching back to another time and definitely another place. Michael’s hands curled into the edge of the basket, his heart suddenly pounding hard and vicious in his chest. “When, Michael?” He snapped his gaze to Victor, unsure to trust the memory. He had thought it was just because Alexander was in pain… had thought it was his need to help. Alexander’s cries echoed through the cell block, each bellow a punch in the center of Michael’s chest. He paced his small space, hands planted at his waist, bare feet slapping on the cold linoleum. Why didn’t they help him? Another pain-filled cry reverberated against his walls, and Michael braced his hands against the frame of his door, leaning into his arms with his head bowed. Frustration gnawed at his insides, knotting his muscles and heating his blood. Damn bastards! “Michael!” Michael shook his head to clear the haze, realizing he was on his feet, staring across the common room toward the door. He didn’t remember standing. Victor slowly rose to his feet, his eyes trained on Michael. His chest burned and he sucked in a sharp breath, filling his lungs again. The nudge was a shove now, making his skin crawl. Several heads had turned in the common room, and he felt their curious stares on him. A hand touched his arm, and he instinctively knew it was Jacqueline, the heat of her touch spreading through him to collide with the itch. He was acutely aware of her, where she stood, how close. “Hey, handsome,” she said softly beside him. “Something wrong?” The pounding in his ears nearly drowned her out. He squinted, staring toward the door leading outside to the white landscape, and angled his head in her direction to try to hear her through the beat.

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Keeping his eyes on the door, Michael drew his leg up and over the bench, moving free. Without looking down or towards Victor, he spoke, “Vic, watch my daughter.” He had Jacqueline’s hand in his, but didn’t remember taking it. Only that it was warm and there, and it was something to hang on to as he walked toward the door. She asked him again what was wrong–or, he thought she did–he couldn’t be sure. Michael turned the doorknob and stepped outside, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun’s glare off the ice. Wind whipped down from the trees, stinging his cheeks and pulling his hair away from his forehead. Jacqueline’s insistent tug on his hand made him turn. “I’m not saying I don’t want to go for a walk on a blustery February afternoon, but do you mind telling me where were going? And could I get a coat?” Michael stared at her, no longer able to form words, as his heartbeat thudded in his ears. He swallowed, licked his lips, and tried to reply but nothing would come. Jacqueline raised her hand and laid her palm against his cheek. “You’re freakin’ me out, Michael. Just a little…” A physical tug pulled at the center of his chest, as real and tactile as someone wrapping their fists around his shirt. Michael turned on the balls of his feet and stared off past the barn… past the shed at the edge of the compound… to the edge of the trees. Three figures walked side by side. Although he didn’t know who they were, the two men walking on the outside were Phoenix guards. They wore the same dark green jackets, weapons strapped to their thighs. Not drawn. They weren’t escorting the third man, they walked with him. Michael released Jacqueline’s hand and stepped down from the porch, his sneakers crunching on the crusty ground. By the time his second shoe left the step, he was running. Running hard and fast.

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Chapter Eight

The impact on his body forced all air from Nick’s lungs, pushing a hard groan from his throat. He wrapped his arms around his son, gasping for air as he held on with all his strength. His lungs burned, not just from the adjustment to the thinner Earth air, but the intense, smothering, choking lump that clogged his throat and wouldn’t let him breathe. Not yet. Nick pulled back, taking Michael’s face in his hands, trying to focus through the tears he could no more stop than he could stop his heart. It was him…Nick’s brain still couldn’t quite wrap around the idea. His son, the man/boy he had left behind oh-so-long-ago, was right there. Right in front of him. His hair was longer, and he had gained weight. It looked good on him. He wasn’t the thin, sallow boy Nick had brought out of New Mexico. Not by half. Nick felt like he had stepped into another life, a parallel universe… or some other bizarre twist in space. In less than a minute, he saw more changes in his son that he could name. Michael had grown, and Nick had missed it. Not anymore. “Michael—” was all he could force from his throat, pushing his son’s long hair back when the wind caught it. “Damn.” He embraced him again, pulling him rough and hard against him, curling his fists into the back of Michael’s shirt. “Michael?” The feminine voice pulled Nick out of the moment, letting him catch his breath and rein in some level of control. Michael pulled back from him, keeping his arm hooked around Nick’s back. They were almost exactly the same height, standing shoulder to shoulder. Michael motioned to the woman who stood near-by, and Nick noticed for the first time the small crowd that had formed, pulling in together as they walked closer. “Jacqueline, this is my father.” A beautiful young woman, with long black hair that shifted off her shoulder with the wind and skin the color of light coffee, crossed the space to them. Her dark eyes shifted from Michael to him, and back to Michael. When she came close enough, Michael immediately reached for her hand and Nick felt a small surge of pride that his son seemed to have hooked such a beautiful woman. “Damn… the future is bright,” Jacqueline said with a cocky grin. Nick laughed and ruffled Michael’s hair. The crowd parted to allow General Castleton to approach, and Nick reluctantly released his grip on Michael to extend his hand to the white-haired man. The General took his hand, but immediately yanked him into a backslapping hug. “When Captain Hampton here called ahead and said he was escorting Colonel Nick Tanner into the compound I nearly—well, let’s just leave it that I was damn happy.” Nick glanced back at the first two Phoenix personnel he had found after being dropped in the middle of the woods on the outskirts of the base. They were shocked as hell, and once

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he’d managed to convince them he really was who he said, they’d finally lowered their pulse pistols. He was thankful Lieutenant Trowley knew him from Colorado, otherwise, he figured he’d be escorted in at gun point. “I took them by surprise, sir.” “It’s damn good to see you, Colonel.” “Good to be seen, sir.” “Let’s get inside. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here and we’ve got a hell of a lot of ground to cover.” He looked past Nick to the trees he had come from, then his eyes shifted upward to the sky. “I’m assuming you brought some friends with you?” “Yes, sir. There are two scout ships hovering in orbit, undetectable by any Sorracchi radar, waiting to hear from me again. I asked for some time. Oh, um…” he paused, realizing what he had said. “I guess I’ve got some things to explain.” The General stepped beside Nick, leading him toward the largest building on the rustic compound. Several familiar faces in the crowd called out greetings, slapping his back as they walked. “We’re already aware that the Areth aren’t Areth at all, but the Sorracchi. We’ve worked some other things out in the last year or so, but I’m sure as hell interested in what you’ve got to say, Colonel. You must have some interesting stories to tell.” “What about here? What the hell happened?” The General’s features tightened, and the remorse was as plain on his face as the lines around his eyes. “Things went bad, Nick. Real bad.” “I saw the Mountain. Scared the crap out of me.” Castleton shook his head, his gaze distant and his mouth twisting like he’d bitten into something disgusting. “That’s not the worst of it.” Nick slowed his step, stopping short of the long porch in front of the main building. “I saw the global scans. They’ve taken over.” It wasn’t a question. How could it be? Castleton nodded. “The lid got blown off their lies and they took it out on the human race. Killed thousands, took just as many right out of their homes. We don’t know exactly what has been done to the ones taken, but based on other things we know, we’ve got a damn good idea.” A battle waged in Nick’s chest. He wanted to know what the Sorracchi had done, wanted to assure the General and everyone else that the Areth and Umani had their backs. But, there was something he wanted more. Nick scanned the crowd with no joy when he didn’t see the blonde woman he sought. He looked forward and recognized Victor, the Areth-Now-Sorracchi doctor he had taken out of New Mexico with Michael, standing on the porch watching their approach. He held in his arms a bundle of pink blankets, and Nick couldn’t help the curious jerk of his eyebrows. Things certainly had changed… Last time he had seen Victor, he was in a coma. Before that, he had teetered on the edge of near-insanity and death. Nick figured it’d take a week to catch up for the last fifteen months. But first things first… Michael pushed through the crowd, skipping the steps with one long stride to join Victor on the porch. Nick watched, more interested in catching the finer changes in his son

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than anything anyone had to say to him right now. With a grin, Michael pushed his hair back from his face and took the baby from Victor. He cradled the baby like a pro, like a man who knew exactly what he was doing… Holy Crap! Nick took the steps onto the porch, walking away from the General and his questions. Michael looked up, a smile tugging at one corner of his lips. Nick had to blink, shaking his head slightly to focus on what the General was saying. “I’ll call the base leaders in for a meeting and we’ll cover all the specifics.” Nick stopped in front of Michael, barely hearing the General anymore. “Actually, sir, do you think we could…” He turned to look at Castleton again. “You think I could get back to you on that? I need to take care of a few things. Just a couple hours.” An understanding smile crossed his face and he nodded, slapping his hand on Nick’s shoulder. Much of the crowd followed Castleton through the door into the large building, leaving Nick alone with Michael, Jacqueline and the baby in his arms. Michael shifted the bundle into the bend of his elbow and pulled back her blanket. She was awake, wide blue eyes staring at him. A soft fuzz of blonde hair stuck out from her head. Nick squinted and looked up, focusing on Jacqueline who stood beside Michael, looking over his arm into the baby’s face. Something didn’t add up. “Things have changed.” Michael’s words alone carried weight and substance, but the spark in his eyes was enough to convince Nick it was all good. His heart expanded in his chest with such ferocity, he thought it would suffocate him. “Ya think?” he managed to say. “Who is this?” “This is Nicole.” He swallowed hard, raising his hand–that right now seemed huge and clumsy beside her delicate cheek–and touched the baby’s face. She smiled and turned into his touch. “Nicole, huh?” “I’m going inside,” Jacqueline said softly, laying her hand on Michael’s arm. “Find me, ‘kay? It’s great to meet you, Colonel.” “Nick,” he corrected quickly. Jacqueline smiled and winked. She was a rocket, it didn’t take a genius to figure that much out. “Don’t sit at the tables,” Michael said, snatching her hand before she could step away. “You’ll put strain on your back.” She squeezed his fingers. “Sure thing, doc.” Michael watching her retreat over his shoulder until she went through the door. It also didn’t take a genius to figure out the look in his son’s eyes… he was a stricken man. Hard and deep. But, something told him that Jacqueline wasn’t Nicole’s mother. Which just opened up another whole can of worms. “The story is a long one, and one that I will tell later,” Michael said. He had to see the question in Nick’s eyes. “Damn straight,” Nick said with a thick voice. “Just answer one question. She’s your daughter?”

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“And your granddaughter, yes.” “Holy crap.” Michael smiled and tucked the blanket around her again. “A long story, but a good one.” He turned and pointed up the path that led away from the main compound cluster. “Follow this trail into the trees. It will curve to the right, and as you top the curve, there is a yellow house on your right.” He dropped his arm to shift Nicole. “She’s there.” Nick smiled, nodding, because there was nothing else he could do. He laid his hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezed, then jumped clear of the porch and jogged up the path. ***** CJ tucked her legs closer to her body and adjusted the blanket that covered her lap. The pillows behind her back cushioned her spine against the metal frame of her bed, and she shifted into them to find a comfortable spot. The sunlight streaming through the open curtains was warm and soothing, and she wondered just how long she’d last in the direct stream before she unintentionally drifted to sleep. Her intention was to take an afternoon off. Things were quiet in the infirmary, and no other projects demanded her time and focus. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done nothing. So, a cup of tea sat on the bedside table and a good book lay open in her lap. Reading for pleasure was almost a foreign concept. The only things she had read in the last three or four years were medical journals, articles, textbooks and the occasional strategic work up. With a smile and a sigh, she flipped the pages of the book and convinced herself she would enjoy her afternoon off, even if it killed her. The sound of the front door slapping shut downstairs pulled her away from her reading, and she raised her head. Dog’s excited yaps carried through the house, the skitter of his toenails on the wooden floor loud enough that she could hear. “I thought you were going to be doing inventory all day,” she shouted. Michael didn’t answer, and it occurred to her that Nicole might be asleep and he didn’t want to shout back. CJ shifted again, raising her knees with her stocking feet on the mattress so she could lean the book against her blanket-covered thighs. She heard the familiar creak of the third step as Michael ascended the stairs. “I don’t know how you manage to find such good books,” she said, talking loud enough that her voice carried without shouting. She kept her eyes on the pages. “I’m halfway through chapter one and it’s great.” He still didn’t answer, so she kept talking. Once Nicole was down, she figured he’d come in. “Lilly told me Jackie’s back is healing well. She might still need to continue the heat therapy, though. Oh, and I put Nicole’s clean laundry in on her dressing table.” His firm footfall hit the top of the stairs, and she turned her page. She quickly found herself engrossed again in the story, reaching out blindly to find her cup of tea. She sipped at it, setting it back again. The house was silent, and she could almost picture Michael in the next room, putting Nicole down in her crib. He often stayed by her bedside for several minutes after she fell asleep, just to make sure she was really gone and just to watch her. He was a good father. The kind of father she knew in her heart Nick would have been had he been given the chance.

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The thought of Nick made her smile, but sat heavy in her chest at the same time. It was almost bittersweet. She heard one of the hallway floorboards squeak. Their cottage was full of squeaks, creaks and whistles. But she didn’t mind. Made the house real, not some pre-fabricated structure of concrete and steal. “Is that wind as freezing as it sounds?” she asked, tipping her head up but not quite managing to pull her eyes from the text. “Cold as space.” Icy heat flashed over her entire body in one breath-shattering second. Her head snapped up and she stared across the room, unable to do anything else. Even draw in air. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt, but she couldn’t move. The light from the front hall window shined behind him, casting him in silhouette. The height, the size, the build… he could be Michael. Could be… Could she believe? Could he be real? Or had she fallen asleep in the sunlight and simply didn’t know it? He stepped into the room and free of the light. In a blink, his face came into focus. Silver hair, with just the hint of the brown it had once been. Chiseled jaw. Just the slightest lines bracketing his mouth and fanning from the corners of his eyes. Deep, brown eyes she could fall into. “Caitlin.” She finally sucked a sharp, burning breath into her lungs. Her vision blurred, clouded behind a veil of tears. Her name… no one ever said her name the way he did. Like he cherished the sound. CJ unfolded her legs and slid them off the edge of the bed, unable to look away from him. Dear God, please don’t let this be a dream. Please! She was afraid to stand. Afraid her legs would give out beneath her. CJ swallowed, her throat cotton balls and sand. “N-Nicky?” Then she was in his arms. His strong, hard, real and warm arms and he held her so close and so tight, her feet left the floor. It didn’t matter. She was already flying. CJ heard her own cries, heard her own voice saying his name again and again. Her feet touched the floor and she pulled back, only enough to run her hands over his chest and shoulders, confirming with her touch what her mind couldn’t quite accept. But his hands at her waist felt real. She shook her head, sliding her fingers up to lay against the warmth of his bare neck. “You’re real. You’re here.” Nick laid his hands against her cheeks and her eyes fluttered closed, a shuddered breath shaking her to her core. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, sliding over the slick skin left by her tears. She couldn’t–didn’t dare–open her eyes. His breath warmed her cheeks, his fingers brushing her skin. If this was a dream, she hoped it was the dreams of the dead. She couldn’t stand waking up from this. “I’m here, baby.” His voice wrapped around her and set her on fire like old-fashioned gasoline on a bonfire. CJ moaned when his lips touched hers, the ability to hold it in gone. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, shoving her fingers into the silver silk of his hair, hanging on for

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dear life. A low, rumbling sound rolled from Nick’s chest, caught in the space between their lips as he tilted her head, kissing her deeper than she thought possible. Nick’s hands slid down her body, his touch leaving a fiery trail. He bent at the knees and gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her off the ground until her legs wrapped around him. Her insides were heated honey, flowing out into her limbs. When Nick laid her on the bed, his familiar weight pressing her into the mattress, in that moment she knew he was real. No fantasy…no midnight dream that woke her to a trembling body and a dull ache in her core…compared to his touch. His hips shifted, grinding against her, and she thought she would fly apart. His lips moved to her throat, his fingers sliding beneath the hem of her sweater. His touch was a branding iron on her skin. She barely heard his muffled “No” spoken into the curve of her shoulder before he jerked back, his weight leaving her. CJ sucked in air, desperate to fill her burning lungs. “Nicky?” As he slid off the bed, he took her hands and pulled her with him until she sat on the edge and he was on one knee on the floor, his hands still skimming over her. The touch was reassuring, as if he needed to believe she was there as much as she needed the same. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her breath hitched and rapid. She touched his hair, stroking down the side of his face. He captured her wrist, and turned his lips into her palm. “Marry me.” The room developed a slight pink haze, and her pulse pounded violently at her temples. CJ swallowed hard, forcing herself to take deeper, slower breaths. Nick watched her intensely, and she understood in a flash of realization just where Michael inherited his studying stare from. She laid her other hand on his shoulder, still needing physical confirmation he was there. Otherwise, she was talking to a mirage and needed commitment. She shook her head. “Why do you even ask? You know what I’ll say.” “Say it.” CJ smiled, finally managing to bring some semblance of stability to her breathing. “Yes. Any time, anywhere.” Nick stood up so fast, her vision spun when she tilted her head to keep him in her sights. He took her hands, bringing her to her feet. CJ stumbled, her entire world tilting off its axis, as she tried to follow him out of the room. “Where are we going?” Nick stopped, bringing her against his side as he leaned over and touched her mouth with another kiss that turned her to molten heat. “To get married. Phoenix has to have a preacher around here, right? If not, I’m pretty damn sure the General has the authority—” CJ stopped short at the top of the stairs before he could pull her down behind him. “What?” He turned back to her, looking up from the step he stood on. For the first time since he stepped into her bedroom and turned her life upside down in the best possible way, he seemed to take a moment. Nick joined her again on the landing, taking her hands in his to stand chest to chest, looking down at her with heavy eyes. “Caitlin, I’ve spent the last fifteen months thinking of nothing but coming home to you and Michael. I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to waste a second.”

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Tears filled her eyes again, and she blinked against them, smiling through them. She slipped her hands free to touch his cheeks, gently urging him to bend to her, pressing a long, simple kiss to his lips.

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Chapter Nine

Nick’s plans for a quick wedding–the quicker the better to get him back in bed with Caitlin–went up in flames like an O2 burner on full thrust as soon as they found Lilly Quinn. First, she squealed. Then she hugged them, followed by another squeal when Caitlin told her their plans. And then… she kicked him out. Apparently, it didn’t matter that he’d been gone over a year, or that he spent that time counting the days, hours and minutes until he got back to Caitlin… he was insane to think he could “just sweep in and expect a woman to get married on the spot”. According to Lilly Quinn. He smirked, despite the irony of it all, and walked down the hill to the huge building that seemed to take up half the compound and served as the hub of activity. Several servicemen and women, the faces of which he recognized even though he couldn’t place names, stopped him to shake his hand and welcome him home. He drew in a long breath, enjoying the cold bite of winter air as it filled his lungs. Fresh air. Earth air. Thin air. He coughed and cleared his throat. Okay, so no heavy breathing quite yet. Nick stepped onto the porch that ran the length of the long building and opened the door. The central hall was huge, with an open, vaulted ceiling paneled with wide wooden planks and anchored with thick, rough beams. A massive fireplace took up one wall, with fieldstone and mortar spreading upward to the chimney that disappeared through the ceiling. The air was heavy with the aroma of pine and hickory and freshly brewed coffee. A tinge of homesickness, true homesickness for his cabin in Parson’s Point, hit him. He hadn’t thought of the lake or the cabin in months, since before he left Earth for parts unknown. Well, except for the moments he talked about it with Michael. And the night he left the deed with Caitlin. “Welcome home, Colonel,” said a young, freckle-faced captain who crossed the room to shake Nick’s hand. “Thanks. Can you tell me where to find the General?” “Yes, sir. Take the hall on your left. The General is most likely in his office. First door on your left.” Nick nodded and patted the soldier’s arm, moving past to cross the room. General Robert Castleton sure knew how to pick a new base. He was curious about what actually happened in Colorado, and how long they’d been at this site, but the overall choice of location was brilliant. What a way to forget the rest of the world! He found the hallway the captain had pointed out and stopped at the first door, rapping his knuckles on the jamb. “Enter!” Nick caught the end of the conversation the General had with someone through the stationary systems communication array as he opened the door. “…he’s going to want to be here.”

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“Understood, General” came back through the computer-based speakers. Beverly Surimoto was on her feet the moment he opened the door, and threw her arms around him with a small squeak. He hugged her so close, her feet left the floor before he set her down again. Even though it had been less than half an hour since he set foot on Tennessee soil, Nick enjoyed the expanding rush of pride in his chest when he looked at Michael across the room. The baby was gone now, and no Jacqueline in sight. He really needed to hear that story. Beverly pulled back and turned to Michael, almost frantically waving at him to join them. The only other person in the room was a man Nick didn’t know. He looked about Nick’s age, late forties, with light brown hair, angular features and pale blue eyes. They kind of reminded him of Annora’s eyes. With his arms crossed and the sole of one foot resting against the wall, he watched silently. Beverly moved her hands in small, elegant motions and for the first time, Nick noticed the ‘talking broach’ was absent from her shoulder. “She says she’s so happy to see you she can’t find the words,” Michael said with a smile as Beverly shrugged. She laid her hand on Nick’s arm and squeezed gently, holding her other hand to her chest with tears glistening in her eyes. Nick tapped his finger behind his ear, roughly where he knew her voice synthesizer implant thing had been. “What happened?” A strange, strained expression passed over her features and she shook her head, her hands dancing again in the space in front of her. “One of the least interesting stories you’ll hear in the next few days,” Michael interpreted. “We want to know all about you.” “Well, if I get my way, I’ll be a married man by sundown.” Beverly sucked in a sharp breath and hugged him again, barely moving in time for his son to do the same. Nick patted his hands against Michael’s back, gripping his shoulder when he pulled away. “She has missed you.” “I missed her. And you. Damn, Michael…” Nick’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before he could continue. “I can’t get over what I’m seeing. You’re… damn.” “Michael is one of my most valuable people, Nick,” the General said, drawing Nick’s attention. “Doesn’t surprise me,” he said, smiling with pride. He looked to Michael again. “If I’m getting hitched, I need a Best Man.” Michael squinted, and for a brief second, Nick saw the inquisitive, tentative young man he had first brought out of New Mexico. “What is a Best Man?” “You stand with me when I marry Caitlin. My witness. There’s no one else I’d rather have with me.” Michael nodded and Nick cupped his hand behind Michael’s head, grinning. “Excellent.” “I take it you’ve got some time to kill?” the General asked, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening with his grin. “Lilly informed me she’d let me know when it was time.” He extended his hand to the unknown man. “Nick Tanner.”

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He stepped away from the wall, taking Nick’s hand in a firm grip. “Trust me, Colonel,” he said with a clipped, rounded accent that reminded Nick of his trip to Edinburgh as a teenager. “A man can’t spend more than a day here without hearing your name. It’s an honor.” At first, the humming nudge Nick felt when he took the man’s hand didn’t surprise him. He’d gotten used to the mental nudge after weeks and months with Earth’s new allies. Nick squinted, looking down at their clasped hands. “Nick, meet John Smith. Until your return, the only actual Areth on Earth.” He eyed the man up, understanding his reaction. Queen Bryony had told him that ninety-seven percent of all Areth had some form of enhanced mental capacity. Humans called it telepathy, empathy, intuition, telekinesis… and the Areth had their own definitions for each. In some Areth, the gifts were strong, and not as strong in others. But to not have some touch of it was the minority in their society. Nick was somehow sensitive to the presence of the capacity, which explained why his hairs always stood on end when he touched Beverly. Queen Bryony claimed he had the gift himself, at some level he hadn’t yet figured out, and it was what gave him the ability to navigate wormholes seemingly on instinct. He wasn’t sure he bought it quite yet. But since modern humans were descendents in part from Areth, somehow, it all connected. “You’re the scout.” “Yes.” Before Nick could say more, the small Umani-issued long range communicator in his pocket buzzed insistently. He held up a hand, one finger extended, and fished out the black, oval device, flipping it in his palm to face the right way. At least, he thought it was the right way. “I’m here,” he said near the smooth surface. “I apologize for intruding on your homecoming, Nicholas, but we have been monitoring global activity and have discovered some troubling events on the opposite side of your planet.” “What is it, Annora?” “Several smaller crafts have dispatched from one of the Sorracchi base ships, and we have determined they are heavily armed. We followed their flight path to the largest body of land opposite to your location. Nicholas, they continue to destroy areas of high population much like the ruins we’ve already discovered.” General Castleton sank into his chair, weathered hands holding his head. Nick swallowed. He knew the Wurdvoller Fliiger and Excalibur were not equipped for battle, not on the scale to fight three Sorracchi war ships and whatever other arsenal the Sorracchi hid. They were here to observe and garner information. Nothing could be done against the Sorracchi until the combined Areth-Umani armada arrived. “Send me the coordinates.” A small screen illuminated on the device, and Nick clenched his jaw as he read the coordinates. His flight geography was rusty, but just like he figured Caitlin’s latitude and longitude fell somewhere in the vicinity of the Smokey Mountains, he placed these coordinates

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close to Bhutan or Bangladesh. He relayed the information to everyone in the room and felt the heavy tension settle in the air. Unfortunately, he figured this type of news wasn’t new. “Nicholas, Her Highness wishes to join you and express her sorrow for the souls lost in this atrocity.” He caught the slight straightening of John Smith’s spine at the mention of Queen Bryony. Nick looked to the General, who had once again reined in his control. “Feel up to a visit, General?” ***** “Papa, are we really going to meet aliens? They’re coming here to see us?” John looked down at his son and reached for Silas’s hand. “You a’right with that? Silas nodded and smiled. “They’re good aliens, right?” “Absolutely.” Silas smiled wider. John rubbed his hand on the boy’s coarse curls. John stood beside Nick Tanner in the center of the common room, waiting for the arrival of the Areth and Umani contingent. His anticipation at seeing some of his own people again danced beneath his skin like the alcohol his hosts called champagne. Like Nick, he had been away from home for a very long time, and until today, he had never quite believed he had a chance of seeing his planet again. The day the Sorracchi turned on Earth and wiped out thousands of Humans in their faceless, merciless show of power, he had fought beside men and women who didn’t know his true face. He had held Cloe Cook in his arms when she died, and swore to her he would care for the son she left behind. He looked down at the boy he now considered his own child. “Do you know what a queen is?” Silas nodded. “Do you understand that a queen is a very important person?” Another nod. “And that you must be on your best behavior?” “Yes, Papa.” He rested his hand on the back of Silas’s neck, and drew a slow breath to steady the effervescent impatience threatening to make him slap his hands together and bounce on the balls of his feet. The air electrified, making his scalp tingle and the hair on his arms stand on end. A low humming sound whispered from the far corners of the room, pulling into the space in front of them, and the silver-blue light of materialization swirled to solid form. Before the shadows of their visiting figures took shape, John recognized the stately frame of his Queen. He dropped to one knee, his head bowed, in respect. Silas, following suit, matching his father’s stance. John glanced sideways at him and winked. The proud grin he received in return filled him with the same pride he had felt from the moment Silas called him ‘Papa’, it was right and true. The air snapped and the hum ceased. A whisper of awe moved through the small group of humans waiting their arrival. “Your Highness,” John heard Nick say. “Chancellor Durin. Welcome to the Tennessee Mountains base for Phoenix.”

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“Thank you, Nicholas.” Her soft, elegant voice spread warmth across the back of his neck. He heard her small gasp of surprise. “John?” He looked up and met her eyes, rising to his feet again. Her pale cheeks were flushed bright, her eyes shining. She clutched the front of her billowing skirt and rushed to meet him, and John folded her in his embrace. “Oh, John!” she cried, “John, I thought I would never see you again.” “Not gettin’ rid of this daft ole face so easy.” He squeezed her closer, forgetting for a moment the others in the room. When he let her go, tears streaked her cheeks and he brushed them away. “You look beautiful.” Bryony smiled and smoothed her hands over her cream silk dress, regaining her composure just as he had seen her do a hundred times before. She took his hand and reached out for the hand of Nick Tanner. “Nicholas, you have surprised me as well as eased a small portion of the weight around my heart.” She looked to John. “You have returned my precious John to me.” Nick Tanner’s eyebrow arched. “Glad I could help?” She released Nick to hold John’s hand in both of hers. “Your brother is well and misses you. He will be ecstatic to know you have been safe.” “Did he come with you?” A sadness passed over her delicate features and she attempted a smile, but John knew her too well to be fooled. “We decided it was far too great a risk for both the Queen and the Prince Regent to leave Aretu. He remained behind to attend all Matters of State and to care for Aubrianna.” Despite his joy at seeing his Queen and wife to his younger brother, his desire to see the rest of his family was almost as great. Aubrianna was the heir to the Aretu throne and the most beautiful child John had ever known. Nick clapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously, drawing everyone’s attention. “Okay, then. Some quick introductions. Your Highness, Chancellor, this is General Robert Castleton. He is our Man in Charge here on the base.” He motioned around the circle of men and women John had come to know well in the last few months. “Beverly Surimoto, she’s Second in Command. And this is my son, Michael.” Bryony smiled, the whisper of sadness hidden again behind her eyes. She stepped forward to take Michael’s hands in her own, and bowed before him to lay his knuckles against her forehead in the greatest sign of honor a member of the Royal Family could bestow on another. Straightening again, she drew a breath. “I feel as though I know you, Michael. Your father has spoken of you, and in my absence from my Prince and my daughter, I found his affectionate words comforting.” “Thank you.” Michael looked confused and uncomfortable, and if John had learned anything about the man, it was that he didn’t like any attention on himself, even when it was well deserved. “General, this is Queen Bryony the Fourteenth, Ruler of the Areth. And, Chancellor Durin, Member of the Council of Seven and Sovereign of Castaneda on Raxo, Home of the Umani.” He continued on to introduce Annora of the Umani and the others who accompanied them.

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“It’s an honor to meet all of you. We have to admit, last year we didn’t know what we were sending the Colonel into. We’re pleased as punch to know it was friendly territory,” General Castleton said, shaking the hand of Chancellor Durin. John saw the shadow of recognition touch Bryony’s expression as she turned her attention to Beverly. Bryony came from a long line of gifted rulers, their mental capabilities exceeding most of the Areth people. While Beverly’s empathy was a constant, gentle caress whenever John was near her, he knew the awareness would be much greater for the Queen. Her intuition was the strongest he had ever seen, and her perception as sharp as any other sense. “You have a unique gift,” she said, tilting her head as she moved past John to approach Beverly. Bryony held her hand to her breast, drawing a deep breath. “Oh, how terrible for you. You’ve shut yourself away, afraid to touch, afraid to feel. It’s overwhelming.” Beverly’s eyes widened and her gaze darted from Bryony to John. Beverly’s delicate hands signed her confusion. “The Queen feels your gift as much as you feel emotions,” John explained. “Beverly does not hear, and she speaks with her hands.” “It’s beautiful.” “We’ve got some time,” Nick said. “General, I say we grab some coffee–maybe cookies if you’ve got any. Damn, that sounds good–and do some exchanging of information before the wedding.” “Wedding?” Bryony stepped toward Nick. “Nicholas, did you do as you said?” He nodded and grinned, rocking on his heels. “Sure did. Surprised the hell out of me when she said yes.” “Oh, that is wonderful. I am so anxious to meet—” Her words were cut off by her own gasp for air and her body swayed. John caught her, his heart jumping at the rush of panic and adrenaline in his blood. Nick moved with him, supporting her from the other side. “What’s wrong?” “General!” shouted an armed serviceman from the other side of the room as he ran from the hall. “We’ve got a problem with the prisoner. He’s gone crazy.” “Who the hell is the prisoner?” Nick demanded, making sure with a glance that John had the Queen before stepping clear. The General frowned. “Damian Ali.” “Why the hell is he a prisoner?” “Because he’s not Damian anymore,” John offered. “He’s Sorracchi.” ***** “It was because of Damian that we first learned they take the body as hosts,” Michael explained as he walked beside Nick, following Captain Sims, Damian’s guard. “How the hell did it happen?” “We don’t know how, but we do know when. It was after Victor woke from his coma but before the attacks began. Nearly a year ago. It was the Sorracchi in Damian that brought them down on the Mountain.” “Holy crap.” Michael nodded. “When we realized, with Victor’s help, that Damian had been taken we had to imprison him the best we could.” They reached a door off what appeared to be an

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industrial size kitchen, and the Captain opened the door. The sound of screaming echoed up the stairwell from below. “This was Victor’s cell when we first came here because it was assumed he had betrayed us. It wasn’t him. It was Damian, or the Sorracchi within.” “Areth filth!” The voice–the timbre and tone–was Damian Ali, but the string of obscenities and threats that he shouted was nothing Nick ever would have imagined the loyal Captain saying, even under the worst circumstances. He glanced behind him, to where Queen Bryony stood with Beverly. Both women looked pale, and he saw a tremble move through Beverly. She couldn’t hear the Sorracchi’s words, but Nick wondered how much of his rage and hate she felt. “Stay here.” “I want to face him,” Bryony said immediately. “I want to see the new face of the Sorracchi.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She straightened her spine and raised her chin. “Perhaps not, Nicholas. But, I am not accustomed to being ordered about.” Before he could argue, she lifted the hem of her gown and started down the stairs, brushing between him and Michael as if they weren’t there. With regal determination, she descended the stairs and they joined her at the bottom. She stepped into the only circle of light in the cellar, cast by a single fixture overhead. From the darkness of the cell, an unearthly scream echoed off the concrete and stone walls. A dirty and feral form that might have once been recognized as Damian lunged from the depths of the cell to slam his body into the steel rod cage that kept him confined. His arms reached for her through the spaces, fists flexing in a feeble attempt to grab hold. Queen Bryony didn’t move, didn’t flinch, not even when he spit on the ground at her feet. “Areth bitch,” Damian hissed. “You’re too late to save these useless, pathetic wastes. We will take what we want and wipe them from the universe, foul abominations. Inbred creatures, nothing more than repugnant mutations. You’ve come to watch them die.” She tilted her head, her eyes distant. The Queen parted her lips, shaking her head, as if denying some truth no one had spoken. She took one step closer, bringing her almost within his reach. Nick started to move, but her hand shot up, stopping him. “He’s still here.” The body of Damian screamed, shaking the cage that held him. “Who?” Michael asked. “Damian?” Bryony nodded. “Yes. Deep down, buried and smothered. But he’s still there.” She sucked in a sharp breath, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. “He’s so frightened. So angry because he knows what his hands have done, what his lips have said, but he can’t stop it. He fights, but he can’t win.” “Shit…” Nick mumbled, raking his hand over his hair. Bryony stared into the wild, white-rimmed eyes of the Sorracchi. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so very sorry.” She turned sharply on her heels, facing the group that had followed her into the darkness. “This will not continue.”

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Chapter Ten

“Your dad looks ready to jump out of his skin.” Jackie shifted Nicole in her lap, hoping she didn’t look as clumsy and nervous as she felt holding the little girl. Michael crouched beside her chair, his hand resting on Jackie’s knee ready to support Nicole if the need arose. “He’s waiting a very long time for this.” Just about every person on base either stood or sat in the common room of Command Hall, packed in like sardines. Children sat in small groups on the floor while the adults sat in chairs, on tables and across the width of the deep fireplace ledge. Nick Tanner had been home less than six hours, and in that time, he’d introduced the members of Base Command to the Umani Race and the Queen of the Areth, massive amounts of information had changed hands, and Lilly had thrown together a quickie wedding ceremony. Now, Michael’s father stood at the end of the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as he waited for CJ to arrive. He didn’t look nervous, just… anxious. Ready. She could almost hear him mumbling let’s get this show on the road. “Did I mention how happy I am for you that your dad is home?” Michael smiled and squeezed her hand, his other resting heavy and warm on her knee. After their kiss the day before–a kiss that had totally blown her away like nothing she had ever, ever experience–she found herself almost painfully aware of his every touch. Her body hummed, and she wondered just how bad she’d scare him if she told him what he did to her. He was still more mystery than man to her. She watched Michael watch his father. Since Nick Tanner blew into camp a few hours before, Michael’s eyes had held a spark she hadn’t seen and his lips hovered on the edge of a perpetual smile. Someday, she’d know all his secrets and all his stories, but she didn’t need to know them all to know that Nick Tanner’s return meant more to Michael than anything in his life. Except maybe for Nicole. She tried to stifle the deep sigh that shuddered through her as she wondered just where she might fit in as part of the grander scheme of things. The actual fact that she worried about it shocked the hell out of her. “I know we’re waiting for CJ, but what else are we waiting for?” Michael grinned, angling his body just a little closer. “A surprise for my father.” “What?” “You’ll see.” Jackie shifted her attention to other people in the room, habitually patting and rubbing Nicole’s back through her blanket. At the front of the room was the most bizarre, freak-me-out ensemble of people she had ever seen. She’d just gotten used to the whole idea that the ‘Areth’ weren’t Areth, but some other race called the Sorracchi who took over humans like parasites. Now, here was a whole bunch of the real thing. Seated in the middle of the party of honored guests was a stunning woman with pale skin, blonde hair plaited down her back nearly to her waist, and startling green eyes. She wore an elegant cream gown that looked like silken milk flowing over her long limbs and thin

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frame. A silver chain draped across her forehead in a delicate swoop, decorated with precious stones of different colors and hues. She was Queen Bryony the Fourteenth, Absolute Ruler of the Areth race, and she was absolutely beautiful. Jackie had seen her enter the room with her contingent, and she seemed to flow more than walk. The man, if she was allowed to refer to them as men–did men apply to just humans or males, no matter the race?–to the Queen’s left was another story entirely. Michael had told her the man was Chancellor Durin, one of the seven rulers of Raxo, the home planet of the Umani. He was huge, not in build but in height. Probably close to seven feet tall. He looked like someone had taken a normal man and stretched him, thinning his limbs and body like Gumby. He was almost… elegant. Pure white hair flowed straight down his back from a hairline set back from the larger-than-normal slope of his prominent forehead. His skin was dark, with a more bronze hue than Jackie’s own. His eyes were dark, almost black, the iris nearly blocking out any of the white around it. He looked at her once, and it freaked her out. Just a little. Like looking into the eyes of an impressionist painting, or something. Not quite real. Around the two leaders sat individuals of both races, mostly male except for one Umani woman. Her eyes were a startlingly pale blue, a sharp contrast to the dark skin and hair. John Smith, the Areth soldier Michael had found in Chicago months before, sat on the opposite side of the Queen from Chancellor Durin. He and the Queen carried on a lengthy conversation, both with wide, familiar smiles. Nicole yanking on a fistful of her hair managed to pull her attention back from watching them. Michael laughed, and leaned over her to detangle her black hair from Nicole’s grip, but not before the little girl managed to get it partially in her mouth. He pushed her hair behind her ear with his fingertips, his hand coming down to rest on her shoulder, and Jackie’s heartbeat jumped. No man, ever, had sent her body into erotic overdrive as fast and as furious as Michael’s simplest touch did. It was unnerving, but she wasn’t complaining. Jackie met his gaze over the top of Nicole’s head, and the intense gaze he held her in caught her breath in her chest. “What?” she managed to ask. His eyes shifted down, falling on her lips, before flicking back up to meet her gaze. “I want to kiss you.” Heat flashed through her, and she did her best to keep her eyes from fluttering like a love-struck schoolgirl. “So, what’s stopping you?” “Michael.” Jackie barely held in her groan when Michael turned away, moving to his feet to answer his father. A cold, needy flash shifted over her skin, and she tingled in places she hadn’t thought about in a long, long time. She shifted Nicole against her chest so the little girl could raise her head, her tiny fingers fascinated with the soft knit of Jackie’s sweater. “Ever heard of spontaneous combustion, Nicki?” she asked, bouncing the little girl in an effort to keep her mind off her physical state. ***** Nick leaned toward his son, whispering in the space between them. “What’s the hang up?” Michael patted his arm. “Soon.” “Easy for you to say.”

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Michael smiled, and Nick enjoyed the nudge of pride. His son really was a different man. Nick couldn’t remember seeing him smile, not genuinely, before he left on his galactic trek. Michael had been too raw, too hesitant, to open up even that much. Now…Nick was meeting his son for the first time all over again. “Hey, I heard you’re a doctor.” Michael shook his head. “Not in title. I doubt I’ll ever be a licensed doctor.” “Don’t knock it, Michael. Paper or not, I’ve heard some of the things you’ve done. You’ve saved lives. That’s good enough for me.” He set his hand on Michael’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m proud of you.” Michael’s eyes shifted past Nick to look behind him half a second before someone spoke. “I heard you’re looking for a preacher.” Nick spun around so fast, he nearly dragged Michael with him. Then he just stopped… and stared… because there was nothing else he could do. With a cocky grin as wide as Texas, Jace Quinn took the last couple of steps to reach him. “What’s the matter, old man? Never seen a ghost before?” Nick’s lungs remembered to breathe and reality kicked him in the ass. He shook his head, releasing his grip on Michael’s shoulder. “Jace Quinn, you son of a—” Jace’s rough, back-smacking hug cut off his curse. Nick jerked back, laughing because that was the only other response he could manage. “How the hell? What the hell happened?” “Long story short; I survived, I was held prisoner, and Jackie Anderson over there dragged my ass home a few months ago.” He jerked his chin past Michael and Nick. Nick glanced quickly. “Jackie? Your Jacqueline?” he asked Michael. His son grinned. “Yes. My Jacqueline.” “Not wasting any time, I see,” Jace said. “Married before sundown your first day here.” Nick shook his head. “Damn straight. I’m not wasting another damn minute.” ***** “This is going to be an interesting ceremony,” Jace began, clearing his throat. “My father had a firm belief that, should Earth Force not work out for me, I had an occupation to fall back on. The family business, I guess you could say.” A low, community chuckle rolled through the room, but Nick barely heard it. His focus was on Caitlin, and nothing else mattered. She wore a yellow sweater with a wide neck that let it slide off her right shoulder, baring her skin to him just enough to drive him insane. It wasn’t a white wedding gown, and this wasn’t a beautiful cathedral, but she was more beautiful than any bride…ever. Her blonde hair swept back from her face, and somehow Lilly Quinn had managed to find some tiny white flowers to weave through it. Her hair was longer than when he left, reminding him of the way she wore it when he first met her, skimming across her shoulders in golden waves. Had it really taken ten years to get here? “Nick.” He held her hands in his, and a little voice in the back of his head told him he was probably staring like a fool, but he couldn’t make himself care enough to look away. She smiled, and his heart jumpstarted. “Nick.”

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Jace’s firmer voice pulled him out of his daze. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, what day is it? What’s the date?” Jace and Caitlin exchanged quick glances, and Jace smirked. “Twenty-first of February, 2053.” Nick laughed, and took Caitlin’s face in his hands, kissing her long and deep. For about five-seconds, he forgot about everyone else and just kissed her until Michael nudged his arm, clearing his throat. “I think you’re supposed to do that at the end.” Nick nodded, but a tight fist closed around his throat, preventing him from saying anything. Caitlin’s eyes shined as she looked at him, and he knew she understood. He didn’t have to explain. The irony and perfect serendipity couldn’t have been better planned if he tried. Ten years ago, February 21, 2043, he had met an impossibly young and beautiful doctor at a military awards ceremony; Doctor CJ Montgomery. Ten years ago that day. It had taken them a decade. “Can I continue now?” Jace asked, his voice lacking any real reprimand. “Yeah, and hurry it up,” Nick managed to say, but doubted anyone other than Caitlin and Michael heard him. He couldn’t bring himself to step back from her, or take his hands from her face. In the darkness and frozen cold of space, he had relived the feel of her skin and the warmth of her breath. The feel of her kiss and her body against him. Liquid heat rolled through him, shuddering in the center of his soul, and he hoped he could make it through the ceremony without embarrassing himself. “I’m going on memory here,” Jace started again. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of God, our honored guests and this assembly to witness the joining together of Nicholas Michael Tanner and Caitlin June Montgomery. “Nick is probably going to kill me later for not using the abridged version, but I’m the son of a preacher, so, I’m going to take this opportunity to say a few words.” Jace cleared his throat, pausing before he continued. And he was right; Nick was going to kill him later. “We’ve been through hell and back in the last couple of years. Sometimes, it feels like a lot longer. But, despite that, the human race hasn’t given up living. We’ve continued to do all the things that count. We’ve become parents, we’ve fallen in love, and… we’re getting married. In First Corinthians, it says Love does not come to an end. I think we’re all testament to that.” Jace clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. “Okay, moving on. Nick and Caitlin, do you both come freely into this marriage? Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your life?” They both answered, Nick stroking his thumb across Caitlin’s lips as she smiled. He was going insane. No two ways about it. “Do you, Nicholas Michael Tanner and Caitlin June Montgomery, take each other as your lawfully wedded spouse? To join your lives as one from now until the end of your days? Through whatever hardships and joys lay ahead? To provide strength and comfort for each other, and seek that comfort only in each other? To be faithful and true, and to protect the heart of your loved one above all else? If this be your solemn pledge and oath, do so confirm it by speaking ‘I do’.”

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“I do,” they said in unison. Jace leaned forward, speaking softly so only they could hear. “Do we have rings?” “No,” Nick said softly, keeping his gaze on Caitlin. “I’m sorry.” She smiled, genuine and pure, and raised her fingertips to his cheek. “You’re what I need, not a ring.” “Okay, then,” Jace declared, stepping back again. “You have declared your consent and intention in the presence of God and all present. By the power invested in me by the First United Church of the Twenty-First Century, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now, you m ay kiss the bride.” Nick was kissing her before Jace got to the ‘pronounce’ part, and didn’t stop until his chest burned from lack of oxygen. The thundering clap of over a hundred people replaced the pounding in his ears. Jace shouted something about introducing Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Tanner, but he already had her hand and beat it for the back door. ***** Michael watched his father bolt from Command Hall, pulling Caitlin behind him, and smiled. This morning, he and Caitlin had shared a pot of coffee and a pan of dehydrated eggs before he left with Nicole. Just like every other morning for nearly a year, with the addition of Nicole being the only difference. He couldn’t have imagined this day if he tried. Lilly had managed to throw together a community meal to follow the wedding, even though his father and Caitlin apparently didn’t intend to stay, and the assembly of base personnel started a slow migration to the adjoining room for the feast. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jacqueline shift in her chair as she tried to stand with Nicole in her arms. He quickly crossed to her and took Nicole, and offered his hand to pull her to her feet, bringing her body flush with his. “Thank you. I feel like an old woman,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m not used to this whole invalid routine.” “You’ll be better soon. I promise.” Jacqueline raised her chin and looked into his face, a small smile ticking the corner of her lips. Just enough to pop the twin dimples in her cheeks before it slipped away again. “Will I get a lot of hands on therapy, Doctor?” She laid her hand on his chest and Michael pulled her to him with the arm not holding Nicole. Energy and heat flashed through him and he wondered if she understood, really understood, what she did to him. He drew a slow, disciplined breath through his nose but it only succeeded in filling his head with her scent. Michael still didn’t know what to say or do with Jacqueline. He knew there was half a dozen things he could say in response, from the least innocuous to the most stimulating, but no words came. Instead, he slid his hand up her back and pulled her closer until he could feel the beat of her heart against his ribcage. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked, tipping her lips toward his when she spoke. “I can’t think.” He swallowed against the dry cotton in his throat. Her smile spread slowly and she leaned into him, her hand sliding up his chest. For the first time since the day Michael brought her home, he wished Nicole wasn’t in his arms. Her other hand laid hot and tempting along the back of his neck, her lips hovering within a whisper of his own.

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“That’s a good thing, Michael,” she said softly, her breath a caress on his cheek. “How about that kiss you mentioned earlier?” Before he could answer, she pulled him in the fraction of an inch needed to bring their open lips together, and he curled his fist into the back of her sweater at the instant rush that shot straight to his gut. He didn’t know how to do anything but give in fully, and his skin hummed with the groan that purred through her mouth when he slipped his tongue past her lips. Her fingers twined in his hair and she rose on her toes, her body sliding against his. Michael forced himself to stop, pulling back to stare at her slick lips and flushed cheeks. Nicole’s head bounced on his shoulder as she tried to squirm free of her blankets and he had to release Jacqueline to shift her in his arms. Jacqueline laid her hand against the side of her throat, blowing out a breath through pursed lips, licking them. “I don’t know how many more of those I can take, handsome.” All he could do was nod, a smile on his lips.

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Chapter Eleven

The bedroom door closed with a resounding thud and before CJ could turn around, Nick’s lips pressed into the curve of her shoulder and his tongue scorched a line on her skin. She gasped, leaning back into him as her body lit up in flames in one consuming flash. His hands… his large, strong, beautiful hands… slipped beneath the hem of her sweater. His touch was hot, urgent, and it matched the rolling need like hot honey filling her limbs and making her throb. CJ raised her arm over her head, draping it behind her to lace her fingers into his short hair. The position arched her back against his abdomen and he took full advantage, squeezing her breasts beneath his palm. “Nicky,” she whispered hoarsely. His hand splayed on her stomach, yanking her hard against his hips as he ground them into her backside, the hard evidence of his need pressing into the small of her back through his jeans. His fingers edged beneath the elastic waistband of the simple skirt Lilly had managed to find and pushed the band low on her hips. She cried out, unable to deny the searing reaction to his touch when he slid his fingers between her thighs and into the source of her throbbing heat. The hungry sounds he made against the back of her neck had her hips undulating into his touch. Long, capable fingers pushed into her, stroking until she thought she would fly apart. An overwhelming need to feel his skin, the heat of his body against hers, overtook her and she pulled away, turning in his arms to face him. With trembling hands, she worked open the buttons of his shirt and they both tugged away at the clothes that separated them. Nick pushed his fingers into her hair, crushing her lips with an open-mouth kiss that devoured her and threatened to ignite her in flames. His tongue thrust into her mouth and she moaned around it, opening herself to every stroke. Stumbling over the pile of clothes they left on the floor, they moved together to the bed. After two steps, Nick bent at the knee and hooked his hands behind her thighs, lifting her off the floor. CJ gasped, hanging on with all her limbs as she felt the hot head of his erection jut against her thighs. His fingertips dug into her backside and she begged for him to finish the act, make it real, and make her believe. “Hang on, baby.” His voice was thick and gravelly as he spoke against the inside curve of her breast before sucking her nipple into his mouth. She cried out again, her body screaming at the edge of shattering apart and he hadn’t entered her yet. Nick set his knee on the mattress and they fell back onto the bed. His mouth immediately burned a trail down her stomach as his fingers urged her to open herself completely to him. CJ’s back arched off the bed, a fine sheen of sweat covering her body, and she curled her fingers into the quilt to keep herself from perforating his skin. His tongue found her clitoris, and he sucked with just enough pressure to shoot spikes of pleasure through her. CJ trembled, her breath coming in short, raspy bursts. Her world hazed, her body flashing heat from the top of her head to the ends of her toes. She barely controlled her scream as his mouth played havoc with her until she trembled beneath him.

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“Nicky, please,” she managed to whisper, to beg. “I need you inside me. Now, before I fly apart.” She was so close, so close, but the need to feel his weight on her, to feel his body joined with her was smothering. Nick moved back up her body, his thighs nudging her legs to wrap around him as he drew her pebble-hard nipple into his mouth. His hands caressed her thighs, gripped her hips and squeezed her waist. CJ wrapped her arms around his shoulders, urging him to kiss her again. She tasted herself on his tongue, and opened to the musky heat. His erection nudged her thigh and she arched against him, desperate for completion. “Caitlin,” he whispered against her mouth. CJ opened her eyes, meeting his dark gaze, and cried out when he slid inside her with one deep, consuming thrust. Nick’s eyes closed and he pressed his face into the curve of her shoulder, his body shaking beneath her touch. He stopped moving, pushed as deep as he could into her heat. The only sound was the raspy mingling of their rapid breaths. His teeth abraded her skin as he whispered her name again. So slowly, he slid from her and for a flash she felt the loss until he pushed into her again. He moved with excruciating care, as if each thrust and stroke was so intense–so overpowering–anything more would be unbearable. Every sense, every nerve in her body fired in overdrive. Every part of her body coiled and tightened, begging, waiting for release. Each slow withdrawal and forced thrust drove her closer and closer to the brink. CJ hung on, digging her nails into his shoulders as his lips burned her skin. A cold heat flashed over her skin and she felt her orgasm build to critical. “Nicholas!” He moved faster, harder, driving her to the point of insanity when reality shattered and CJ threw her head back with one long, splintering cry. Her body clenched, pulling from Nick every moment of pleasure she could. His pace slowed, deepened, until one final thrust ripped a groan from his throat and his fingers curled into her shoulders. CJ draped her trembling arms across his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him. His slick hair clung to her cheek as she turned into him, kissing his temple, fighting to keep her eyes open against the physical exhaustion that followed the elation. “You’re real,” she whispered, her voice rough and raspy. ***** Michael sat on the floor of the common room, with his back braced against one of the couches near the hearth. The fire had dwindled to a low crackle with only small flames licking at the logs wedged behind the grate. The room was nearly empty now, and it was nearly midnight. Only a few late-night stragglers remained either playing cards or reading in far corners of the room. He sat with his legs extended and his arms crossed over his chest, staring into the dancing fire. Nicole’s basket sat on the floor beside him, and she was sound asleep. She had been for hours, and normally he would have taken her home long ago, but tonight he purposefully stayed away. His father and Caitlin needed some time, and while he couldn’t stay away the whole night, he would give them as much as he could. “I brought you a coffee. Looked like you planned on pulling a late night.”

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Michael looked up and smiled, reaching for the cup Jacqueline held out. He raised his knee and rested his arm on it to support the cup. “I’m giving them time,” he answered, sipping the steaming liquid, wincing at the taste. “Did you bring extra sugar?” “I put two in there.” “I like four.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll remember that.” Michael set the cup beside him, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sit with me?” Jacqueline stepped into the space between his legs, and when he realized her intent, he shifted to give her room to sit. His thighs bracketed her hips and she settled her back against his chest, the top of her head level with his cheek. Michael tilted his head to rest his chin against her temple, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar proximity. “Let me know if this bothers your back.” “I’ll just ask for a massage if it does.” It had taken him months to feel comfortable with any physical contact, even from Caitlin, but in the course of two days Jacqueline had propelled him into unfamiliar territory. She didn’t shy from him, never had. But this was more than he knew how to handle. He reacted, or at least his body did. But as always, the questions hovered in the back of his mind whether he was doing the right thing. There was no longer the threat of retribution, but he worried all the same. “You’re quiet,” she said, her hand sliding up and down his thigh in a gentle, unassuming touch. “Something on your mind?” “Many things.” “Anything you want to share?” He shook his head, the action brushing his cheek against her hair. It was thick and silky, shining a deep blue-black in the firelight. Setting the cup on the floor, Michael wrapped his arms around her body. She laid her arms over his, shifting closer. “Okay, we can just sit here if you want.” They sat quiet for a long time. Michael focused on the sound of the crackling fire and the steady rise and fall of her ribcage within the circle of his arms. Her fingers traced random patterns on the back of his hands, and with a smile, he realized that for once he didn’t feel the clashing emotions of panic and enjoyment at the intimacy of her touch. Perhaps, he could be normal after all. “I want you to know about me,” he said before he realized the thought had formed in his mind. She turned her head against his chest so she could see him, and when he looked down their faces were almost close enough to touch. He smiled. Yes, this was a good thing. “Okay.” “I don’t know how to explain it all.” “Well, let’s cover what I know,” she said with a smile, and leaned up to kiss his jaw. Warmth spread from the point of contact. “I know the woman who gave birth to you is Sorracchi, which really just amounts to the brain of an alien in a human body. I know you grew up in what equated to little more than a prison.” Her eyes shifted down to look at his chest. “I know that whatever happened to you there left you scarred physically, but I figure it went a hell of a lot deeper than that. And, I know there’s a lot going on in your head than you don’t let anyone know.”

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“Perhaps you know more than I realized.” “Oh! And you’re Obi Wan Kenobi,” she declared with a laugh, holding her arm out to teeter her flat palm back and forth. “You can use The Force.” For the first time, ever, Michael let himself laugh at the mention of his growing ability. She laughed with him, but they both silenced quickly when a shuddered breath came from the basket. Jacqueline laid her hand against his cheek, and with the slightest touch urged him to kiss her. He welcomed the rush, the heat. When they broke, Jacqueline stared at him, the smallest smile on her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.” “I’m getting better at it.” Jacqueline’s features sobered and she sat up to twist in the space between his legs so she could look into his face, her back now supported by his bent knee. “What happened to you?” The weight of her voice carried the true depth of her question. What really happened? “My life was taken away.” Something tangible and heavy shifted through his chest, and Michael realized it was the first time he had tried to put into words the hell he had lived through. Even now, so much of it was a blur to him, shadows and flashes of repetitive days outside the pain. Clearing his throat, Michael took Jacqueline’s hand and focused on the soft stroke of his thumb across her knuckles. “I’ve never spoken of this in detail, not even with Caitlin. She knows it was terrible, but I can’t stand the look in her eyes when she hears.” “It’s only because she loves you.” Michael raised his head and met her gaze, swallowing. “I know. Are you sure you want to hear?” She nodded, licking her lips. He focused again on their joined hands and remembered back to the first time, after leaving New Mexico, that someone had touched him. Just the simple act of touching him because he was there and they wanted a connection. He had been terrified. The fear was raw and hot in his throat. He had taken the leap of faith and followed the man he instinctively knew as his father from the mouth of hell, and found himself among strangers who called themselves friends. In the deep levels of the Colorado base, Caitlin had sat beside him while Lilly examined his ravaged and thin body. Caitlin had laid her hand on his shoulder, just a simple touch. People didn’t understand what a touch could mean. “Before I was taken out of New Mexico, time and age had no relevance. I don’t know how old I was the first time I prayed for death, but I was young. It was the same time I fully understood that my torturer was also my mother.” Her hand tightened on his. “It was also the first time Victor saved my life.” “Is that why you defended him?” “Yes. I owe him my life as much as I owe Jace Quinn or my father. He’s a good friend.” “How young were you?” “When it all began? Too young to remember.” “She tortured you? Even as a child?”

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He nodded. “It was experimentation. Or, most of the time. If I made her angry, it was worse. Retaliation. Punishment. I lived through the same torture Jace did, but I was different. She didn’t have anyone to hold over me. There was no one I loved.” The words choked him, because they hadn’t always been true. “I had nothing to lose. And it was all I had ever known.” Jacqueline studied him, her eyes shifting slightly. “No,” she said softly. “There was someone.” “Once, yes. But, Kathleen took her. After that…I never again gave her the opportunity to hurt someone because of me.” The conversation ended there when Nicole woke with a resounding wail, her tiny arms immediately flailing. Jackie shifted enough that Michael could lift his daughter from the basket. She immediately quieted when her head touched his shoulder, but he knew it wouldn’t last. “I have to take her home,” he said reluctantly. Jacqueline moved slowly to her feet, and he note the stiffness she still appeared to have in her movement, and the slight wince around her eyes as she straightened. She took the baby from him so he could stand, and by the time he took her back she was crying. He knew Nicole would want nothing to do with the basket, and decided to leave it where it was until the next day. With Nicole in his arms, he leaned forward and kissed Jacqueline goodnight. Even the brief touch of her lips lit a fire in him. She still stood by the couch when he reached the door, and he glanced back one last time before stepping into the cold night. ***** Nick’s sleep was restless, despite the heavy satiation that lingered in his limbs and his fatigue from the strain of adjusting again to the thinner Earth atmosphere. He was used to the constant, even if low, hum of an engine. First, it had been the O2 engines of his glider lulling him while he rejuvenated his body between jumps. Then the floating capital city of Castaneda on Raxo and the wormhole engines of the scout ships. At one time, the silence of a country night was the only lullaby he needed. He knew he’d get there again, but not tonight. He rolled onto his side to face his wife. His wife. Holy crap. He’d done it. He’d made it home, but that wasn’t the biggest miracle. The biggest miracle was that she still wanted him, still waited for him. Her blonde hair curled around her cheeks in gorgeous disarray, and Nick reached out to brush it away. If possible, she was more beautiful now than when he’d left. Maybe it was time, maybe distance, maybe need… but she took his breath away. Nick realized with a grin that he’d never actually asked her if there was anyone else, if she wanted to be with him. He’d just stormed in, taken her in his arms, and asked her to be his wife. Well, if there was anyone else… that was just too damn bad. He was never, ever letting her go again. He’d screwed up once, and he’d be damned if he’d let this chance slip through his fists. The sound of the cottage door closing downstairs brought Nick’s head off the pillow. He slipped from the bed, glancing at Caitlin to make sure he hadn’t woken her, and pulled on the jeans he’d left on the floor. Nick opened the bedroom door, and heard Dog’s soft whimpering at the bottom of the stairs, along with a whimpering of a different kind. Stepping

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into the hall to close the door behind him, Nick stood at the top of the stairs with his hands braced on the railing as he watched his son ascend the steps. “Is this where I ask you where you’ve been half the night?” Michael looked up, smiling as he bounced the fussing baby against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I woke you.” He reached the landing and tilted his head toward the nursery, inviting Nick to follow. “You didn’t.” Somewhere in the back of his head, Nick thought that things should be more awkward between him and his son. They’d spent all of two weeks together in Michael’s life, and that had been so long ago. Despite that, he felt no hesitation from his son. He wasn’t the same man. As much as Nick loved the boy he had found, he was glad to see Michael had found a place for himself without Nick. He stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, as he watched Michael attend to his daughter. With confident hands, Michael unwrapped her from the pink blanket, changing her into a fresh diaper and a new set of clothing. Anxious to get a better look at his granddaughter, even though the idea of it completely blew him away, Nick stepped closer. “Nicole, huh?” Michael smiled over his shoulder. “Caitlin said you would like it.” Nick ran his thumb over his chin, clearing his throat. “So, do I get the whole story now? I’ve heard reports on global attacks, pilots coming back from the dead, Areth who aren’t Areth, starving humans and devastated cities. Give me something good.” Michael finished wrapping the baby in a fresh blanket, lifting her from the dressing table. “You aren’t tired?” “I’d rather hear your story.” His son smiled, and once again, Nick saw a different man. “I just spent the last half hour explaining the first twenty-five years of my life, I guess I can tell you about the last fifteen months. I have to feed her before she goes back to sleep. Will you hold her until I come back?” Nick winced, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t have much experience at it.” Michael didn’t offer an argument, just held her out and forced her into Nick’s arms. He pointed to a rocking chair in the corner of the room, and was out the door before Nick could sit down. This was the hardest part of reality for Nick. He was a father, had always thought of himself as one even when he believed Michael was dead, but he’d never held his son in his arms. Never fed him. Never watched him sleep. Maybe he could make up for the last twenty-odd years with this little girl. She was beautiful. Dark blue eyes seemed darker in the low light, and the fine down covering on her head was definitely blonde. Perfect little lips pursed between full cheeks. She stared up at him, and he swore she was trying to figure out just who he was. He didn’t know what kind of vision kids had at her age, or what age she was, but he figured if she could see him, she might be wondering what happened to her daddy. He smirked, shifting her in his arms. Nick felt big and clumsy, and overbearing holding such a tiny thing as Nicole. Something warm and pleasant grew in his chest, pushing against his heart until it ached. He swallowed, finding his voice. “Hi, Nicole. I’m your grandpa.”

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Chapter Twelve

Beverly woke from her sleep with a sharp jolt that stole her breath and flashed cold sweat over her skin. She sat up, panting for breath, and pushed back the blankets that smothered her. Stumbling forward on shaking legs, she moved from the bed to the window. Her room was one of the few in Command Hall, amounting to little more than a place to sleep and a desk to work at if she wanted, but the view was breathtaking. Half the mountainside was visible from her bedroom, and this morning it glistened with a light dusting of fresh snow. She laid her palm against the cold pane of glass, her other hand pressed to her chest as she fought to calm the raging panic that twisted and pounded behind her ribs. Her skin crawled, itched, and her mind screamed Go! Go! Go! But where? Taking only long enough to tie a scarf around her head to tame her curly hair and dress quickly, she stepped out her door and barely managed not to run to the common room at the end of the hall. The unease bubbled in her veins and tingled along the back of her neck. Nothing seemed unusual. A few people sat at tables finishing the last of their breakfast. Most of the furniture was still out of place from the wedding ceremony the night before. If something were wrong, if something had happened, she would have seen evidence of it. Hot tears burned her eyes and she blinked them away, not understanding their source or the bitter panic in her throat. She sprinted across the room to the door and yanked it open, the cold air outside biting her cheeks. Beverly was half way up the hill before she realized someone ran behind her, and stopped short when the grabbed her elbow. She spun around, the cold air making it hard to breathe, and faced John. Their breath curled white in the space between them. “Beverly, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, the tears on her cheeks freezing, making her skin tight. Unable to explain, she grabbed a fistful of his sweater and dragged him with her up the hill to the infirmary. His arm came behind her, keeping her from falling. Beverly burst through the infirmary door, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. John moved past her and she saw him shout down the hall. Part of her had hoped that she’d reach the medical building and find the source of her need, some finite thing that she could see and touch that would release the panic. But there was nothing, not yet. Michael burst into the room, obviously running down the hall to answer John’s call. He came to her, gripping her arms to look her in the eye, his own features twisted in concern. “Beverly, what is it?” she read on his lips. She shook her head, finally able to make her trembling hands work enough to sign. “I don’t know. I woke up and…” She fumbled, waving her hands in frustration. “Something is wrong. I don’t know. I don’t know!” She shook her head, tapping her forehead hard.

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“Nothing is wrong. Everyone is…” His words trailed off, his lips parted. Her breath caught, and through the rush of his touch she felt his realization the same moment it slammed into her. “Victor.” She jerked and gasped, pushing his hands away to run to the door again. Her feet slipped on the icy porch and she landed on her hands, but before either man could help her, she skittered forward and found her feet before hitting the ground. Her palms burned, but she didn’t care. Victor’s cottage, the cottage they had shared for such a brief period of time, was the next building ascending the hill but as she ran, it felt a mile away. They reached the front door together, and Michael pounded the side of his fist on the frame, the vibration shifting through her feet where she stood. A wave of vertigo hit her and her hands flailed for something solid to keep her on her feet. John wrapped her in his arms, keeping her standing, as black dots danced in her vision. Michael knocked again, but she couldn’t wait any more. She struggled free of John and pushed Michael until he moved. Her lungs burned like all oxygen had been sucked from the house, and something invisible pushed her to the floor. She used her hands to pull herself up the stairs to the second floor, her vision blurred by the tears that flowed down her cheeks. She was afraid of what she would find, but more afraid not to see. The bedroom door was closed, and when she tried to knob, it refused to turn. Beverly didn’t need to ask; as soon as she looked at him, Michael braced his body and slammed his shoulder into the wooden barrier. The bedroom was a disaster. Splintered and shattered furniture littered the floor, and a cold gust of wind chilled her skin again from the broken front window. The blankets had been ripped from the bed, and the metal footboard tilted at a strange angle to the floor. Michael jumped over the broken chair blocking the doorway and ran around the foot of the bed. Beverly saw it in his face the moment he saw Victor, and her heart seized. Shrugging off John’s protective hold, she stumbled through the debris to join Michael, who now knelt out of view on the other side of the bed. She felt the cry rip from her throat when she reached him. Victor’s twisted body was bloody and bruised, bare from the waist up. A small pool of congealed blood circled his head, thick and almost black. His arms extended over his head, tied to the leg of the bed with a nylon strap that had cut into his flesh, leaving long trails of blood down his arms from his wrists. Dear God, who would do this to him? She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over his bruised body. Michael’s fingers worked to release the ropes, and she felt the departure of running feet vibrating through the floor. John had gone for help. Finally, she forced herself to lay her hands on his chest. His skin was cold, and she choked on her own breath. Beverly grabbed Michael’s sleeve, tugging hard until he looked at her. His expression was dark, his lips pressed together in a white-rimmed line. “He’s alive,” he said, his lips so tight she could barely read the words. “But he may not be for long.”

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A sob ripped through her throat from her soul and she folded over him, laying her cheek on his chest. Only when she stilled her own breathing until her lungs burned, did she feel the subtle expansion of his ribs and the weak rhythm of his heart. She fought when two hands touched her arms and tried to pull her back, but let John help her stand when her logical mind told her to let Michael do what he needed to do. She stood in the corner of the room as Lilly and Michael did what they had to before carrying him from the room in a makeshift stretcher. Only when they disappeared from the room did she feel the smothering weight ease enough to relieve the pain in her chest. Beverly sank to her knees, John moving with her. And when she was ready to stand again, he helped her to her feet. ***** “What the hell happened?” Michael didn’t answer the General, his focus on grasping the final threads of Victor’s life and hanging on. If he tried to talk, if he took his attention away, he knew his raging anger would overpower all else. And Victor couldn’t afford his inattention. He heard John tell General Castleton, but only afforded a brief second of attention. Victor’s heartbeat was dangerously low, and his higher brain function readings had Michael concerned. Scans showed swelling of the brain and blood loss approaching dangerous levels, which didn’t surprise him from the amount of blood in the room. He hadn’t found any deep wounds other than the one on his skull and the penetration wounds around his wrist where the nylon thongs had cut into Victor’s skin. Bruises covered his body, but other than cracked ribs there were no broken bones. His life hung on by a thread. Lilly stood on the other side of the exam bed, the hiss of her infusion syringe the only sound between them. They worked in silence as the others in the room tried to sort everything out. Their presence grated on Michael’s nerves. “Michael, these readings—” “Is he going to live?” the General asked, cutting Lilly off mid-sentence. Michael snapped a quick glare at the group gathered by the door, focusing again on Lilly. “What do they say?” “I’ve seen this before with him. You wouldn’t remember because—” “I want to know who the hell did this. I don’t give a crap about what he did or didn’t do, it is not the job of anyone on this base to hand out judgment,” General Castleton snapped out, to whom Michael didn’t know. “Actually, sir, I’m not sure someone did.” John’s argument snapped Michael’s restraint and he slammed the instrument in his hand down on the bedside table. Conversation stopped short. “Everyone get out.” “Please,” Amanda said from the doorway, choosing the perfect time to return with the supplies they needed. “Everyone. Wait down the hall until we’re done.” Michael clenched his jaw as the General and John left the room, but as Beverly turned to leave with one last, terrified glance at Victor’s beaten body, he raised his hand to draw her attention. Her glistening eyes shifted to him as a shudder moved through her body.

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“Stay.” She signed a shaky Thank you and stepped to the side so she was out of the way. Michael changed the bandage he had set behind Victor’s head and turned his attention again to Lilly. Her expression was as tight and tense as his felt, and she held bioscan reader out to him. “His brain waves are wrong. Higher functions are almost non-existent, but look…” He took the reader, scrolling through the erratic spikes along his Thalamus and Hypothalamus. “This happened before. The first time he slipped into the coma.” Lilly nodded. “I wasn’t sure you remembered. It was before you began studying.” “It’s happened again.” “I think so. Michael, that coma almost killed him last time and he was in a stronger physical state than he is now. I don’t know if—” “He’ll make it.” He refused to meet her eyes, not wanting to see the doubt in them. As he had told Jacqueline the night before, he owed Victor his life. He wasn’t going to let his friend go. “Not if he doesn’t get a blood transfusion.” Michael closed his eyes and bowed his head, clenching his teeth until pain shot down his neck. Rage simmered beneath the surface of his skin, burning like acid in his blood. He swallowed and fought the image of finding the bastard who did this and abusing them until his own hands bled. Lilly touched his arm, and for the first time in months, he pulled back from the contact. “What blood type?” he ground out. She changed the screen image on her handheld, reading the information. “AB positive.” “Do we have any?” He knew the answer, but had to ask the question. “No. Our plasma bank is almost empty. We have two liters of universal.” “It’s not enough.” “I know.” Michael swallowed hard and glanced to Beverly. She watched with wide eyes, her hand resting at the base of her throat as if keeping her heart from leaping free. He understood how she felt. “Put him on fluids. I’ll figure something out.” “Michael—” “I’ll check the medical records of every person on this base if I have to.” He looked into the battered and sallow face of his friend, and swallowed again. Laying his hand against Victor’s forehead, wincing at the clammy coolness caused by blood loss, he walked away with wooden legs to where Beverly stood. She tipped her head up when he grew close, heavy tears rolled unabated down her cheeks. “We’re doing what we can.” A violent shudder shook her small frame and he laid his hand on her arm. Michael felt his own tears burn his eyes, but he willed them not to fall. “He needs a blood transfusion, and his blood type is rare.” “What can we do?” Her hands shook through the signs.

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“Find a donor. I’m going to check the base records. Until then, we’re attempting to stabilize him.” Michael glanced back to Victor, then back to Beverly. “Stay with him. Let him know you’re here. Beverly, he needs a reason.” She nodded and immediately brushed past him. Michael watched as she laid her hands on him, gingerly caressing the bandages around his wrists with her fingertips and stroking his forehead, tears falling from her chin. He yanked the exam room door open and pain shot through his shoulder. Ignoring the burn, he strode down the short hall to Lilly’s office where they kept the base compliment’s records. The knot in his gut twisted painfully and he hunched forward, the edge of the desk digging into the heels of his hands. Michael couldn’t remember a time when rage had slammed into him as viciously at when he saw Victor on the floor, bloody and bruised. And the simmering roll of fury hadn’t let him go. A ceramic mug on the desk, half-full of cold coffee, flew off the desk across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, denting the plaster as dark liquid stained the broken surface. Michael spun around and sat back on the desk edge, pressing his hands into his eyes until spots danced in the darkness. His chest hurt and his temples throbbed with the familiar pain that overtook him whenever his telekinesis lashed out uncontained. When his emotions ran high, the force of his mind lashing out was unpredictable and he always paid later for his lack of control. The pain in his shoulder, where he had used his body to slam through Victor’s door, burned with increasing intensity, but he ignored it. Other things, more important things, had to be dealt with and he needed control. A ball of acid sat in his gut and he remembered Sonora’s words before she left. Michael, you’re going to eat yourself up from the inside out. “Michael.” He dropped his hands, his eyes stinging. “You don’t want to be near me right now, Jacqueline.” She stared at him, crossing her arms as she stepped into the room. “I think maybe I do.” He turned his back on her, biting down until he thought his teeth would crack. “Please,” was all he could manage. Michael pulled it all in, pushing the rage and the terror down as deep as he could, down into the darkest part of his soul. Down to where he kept the memories. On the edge of his awareness, he heard the metal cabinet in the corner of the room rattle and bang against the wall. Swallowing hard, he pulled in–tighter and tighter–until his spine felt like the string of a bow. The shaking stopped. “You can rattle cabinets and throw coffee all you want. I’m not leaving you alone.” A painful spasm jerked through his body and he curled his hands into fists. Her hands on his back snapped the last visage of control he had and he turned hard into her. Michael wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her as close as he dared without breaking her in two, burying his face into the curve of her shoulder as one deep, ripping cry tore its way from his throat. Her fingers laced into his hair and she held on while the waves of grief drowned him. He didn’t remember dropping to the floor, only that he was on his knee, unable to stand the weight of his own body any longer. She moved with him, never letting go, never letting him fall alone. Michael sat on the hard floor, his back against the desk, and closed his eyes.

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Jacqueline knelt beside him, her long fingers pushing his hair back from his face. He felt spent and wasted. “I’m sorry,” he forced through his raw throat. “For what?” “I don’t…I don’t lose control like that.” “Hell, we all do once in awhile. Especially when someone you care about is hurt.” She scooted closer, her knees resting against his thigh. “I think I really understand now how much he means to you.” Michael closed his eyes, only forcing the tears down his cheeks. “What can you do?” He rolled his head against the desk. “He needs blood.” “That’s a problem, I take it.” “He’s AB positive.” “And we don’t have any…” Michael opened his eyes, and turned his head to look at her, clearing his throat. The worst of the storm had passed and he could think again. “Not enough.” Jacqueline smiled and squeezed his hand. “Problem solved.” “How?” She held out her arm and pushed her sleeve up past her elbow. On the inside of her arm, so small it was barely visible, and so inconspicuous he had never noticed it before, was a tattoo of two letters: UD. “A few years ago, I lost a friend of mine because he got hurt pretty bad and the docs taking care of him couldn’t get him the right blood type. I found out after the fact that I could have helped him if I’d known. So, I got this. Just in case.” “You’ll do this?” She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?” The familiar anger rolled through his gut again, but he refused to let it take control. “Someone did this probably because of who he is.” “And that’s precisely why I’ll help. Because of who he is.” She laid her hand against his cheek and smiled. “He’s someone important. To you.”

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Chapter Thirteen

“I can’t get over him,” Nick said in a hushed voice as he walked beside CJ through the quiet infirmary hall. “A doctor. I mean, I remember Lilly said before I left that his IQ was really high… but a doctor in less than a year? Where the hell did he get that?” CJ smiled, slipping her hand into the bend of her husband’s arm. She smiled at the thought. “He was assisting Lilly with basic injuries within a couple months. It’s natural for him, helping people. He even delivered Jamie.” “No shit,” Nick said with a proud chuckle. “I’m glad the two of you had a chance to catch up the other night. Before…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting him guide her. The last two days had been a whirlwind; between the arrival of the Umani and Areth, the beginnings of talks and contacting other Phoenix bases globally to inform them of the change of events, then Victor’s attack, and Michael’s headlong jump into saving his life–by any means possible. He hadn’t been home or slept in his own bed in two days. The only fortunate part, she supposed, was that Nick took to ‘grandfatherhood’ like a professional. He and Nicole were best buddies. “He seems stronger, more confident. A different person.” “That’s a smoke screen,” CJ said, opening her eyes again. “I still see that scared, unsure kid who wakes up with nightmares and wants desperately to find his place in the grand scheme of things. But yeah, he’s better.” “What can I do?” She looked up at him, smiling before she laid her cheek on his arm. “Being here is going to do so much for him. And…” She pulled her lower lip through her teeth. “And what?” “There’s more about Michael you need to know. I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you, but I’m about ninety-nine percent sure he’s not going to bring it up. And he’s not going to ask you if it’s okay.” CJ stopped and they turned to face each other. Even in the dim light of the hall, she saw the curious concern in his expression. “It’s got to be okay with you. I don’t want to think about what it’ll do to him if it’s not.” Nick laid his hands on her arms, running his hands from shoulder to elbow. “What is it? Can’t be that bad.” “That’s just it. It’s not bad. But, to Michael, it is.” “Geez, Caitlin. Just tell me.” “Michael is…” There really was no way to tell Nick, other than just tell him. “Do you remember his headaches?” “Yeah.” “They were a… precursor… for something more. A few months after we brought him home, he started displaying abilities. Enhanced abilities.” Nick just stared, waiting for her to on with it. CJ huffed a breath. “Michael is telekinetic.” “Like… he moves stuff with his brain?” She nodded. “Yes.”

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“No shit!” Caitlin laughed. “You know, that’s exactly what I told him you’d say.” A door down the hall opened, and Jackie Anderson stepped out of the room Victor rested in. She looked tired, and CJ questioned the wisdom of her donating the blood Victor needed so soon. She had only been in Tennessee a matter of days, and had arrived with her own injuries. Jackie looked up as they neared her, smiling. “Shouldn’t you two be off doing what people do after they get hitched?” she said with a wink. Nick slipped his arm around CJ’s shoulder, pulling her against his side. “Don’t tempt me, Jacqueline.” “We came to check on Michael. Is he with Victor?” “Nah. We kicked him out a couple hours ago. Told him to get some rest. Nicole okay? He’ll want to know when he wakes up.” CJ smiled. If she had been asked to pick the perfect match for Michael, she probably wouldn’t have even considered Jacqueline Anderson. But, by what she had seen, they brought the best out in each other. Jackie made Michael act, forced him to go further and do more than he might be comfortable with, but that was a good thing. And Michael grounded Jackie. “She’s fine. Misses Daddy,” CJ said. “But she’s fine with us until he comes home.” “Yeah, Grandma and Grandpa are on the case,” Nick teased, squeezing her shoulder. Jackie stared at them, a distant smile on her face. She flipped her black hair behind her shoulders and slipped her hands into her back pockets, looking down before she looked at them again. CJ got the definite impression Jackie had something to say, and it had to be the first time she’d ever seen Jackie at a loss for words. Maybe Michael rubbed off on her in ways CJ never figured. “Michael and I’ve been talking,” she finally said. “He’s told me things. I don’t think it’s everything, but I’ve got a pretty clear image of the crap he’s gone through. Helps me get it, you know? Helps me get him. Although, I don’t really get it because I don’t get how he can be so…” Her last words danced on a nervous laugh, and she blinked her eyes rapidly. “I just… I wanted you guys to know that I know, and…” Jackie shifted her stance, pushing her elbows back. “He’s a good man.” “Yeah, he is.” CJ looked up at Nick, smiling. “Like his dad.” ***** Just outside the gravitational pull of the planet, skimming the surface of the atmosphere, hovered three of the greatest war ships ever build by the Empire of the Sorracchi. For forty years, they hid their weapon arrays and machinations of war from the simple minds of the humans on the planet below. It had been so easy to deceive them, to hide the truth. Imbeciles. They deserved their fate, total obliteration from the universe. The original humans, the genetic beginning of it all, shouldn’t have survived. And they wouldn’t have if nature had taken its course, uninterrupted. Untouched. The bleeding heart Umani and Areth had interfered with their superior minded ways and holy conviction, and a new race had been born.

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In the end, their meddling had worked to Sorracchi advantage. The amalgamation of Human, Umani and Areth had created the potential for biological vessels perfect for the continuation of the Sorracchi race. And it was all happening soon… so very, very soon. Kathleen stared down on the planet. They currently orbited somewhere over the southern polar cap. If she felt like admitting it, the planet itself was beautiful. Clean water after three decades of pollution depletion and atmospheric purification, clean air for the same reason. If the Humans hadn’t smartened up, they might have kept this planet for their own. They still might. Their weapons destroyed matter, but left no harmful fallout. When all human life was gone, except perhaps for those they would keep as stock, the Earth would be theirs. She walked to the monitor on the wall. The strangely shaped buttons and levers had been designed to accommodate their previous forms, but their clunkiness was irrelevant. Such was the beauty of opposable thumbs. Kathleen scanned her files and opened two, commanding the monitor to play them side-by-side. On the left was the video play of her fondest memory; one of her most satisfying sessions with Michael. She missed the rush of adrenaline that tainted her tongue and hummed in her blood when she heard his screams. Her breath hitched and her body grew hot as she watched the image. He had been young, perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age, impossibly young in comparison to the lives she had lived. But his youth left him vulnerable, weak. So easy to manipulate. So easy to hurt. She watched herself walk slowly around the steel table he was strapped to, his arms spread away from his body and his legs pulled so far apart she had dislocated one of his hips that day. Naked and trembling, his body stood as testament to the extent of her experiments. Kathleen often did her work on other humans, other children, but none brought her the deep down satisfaction she felt when she left Michael whimpering and near-death. Before the time of the human bodies, when they still inhabited their natural forms, one of her superiors had told her he was in awe of her blood thirst. He wished more Sorracchi reveled in their work the way she did. Michael brought out the best in her. She touched the screen, watching herself fill his body with DNA-stripping power. He wasn’t the man he was intended to be, not if nature had been given its way. She had seen to it. But, he was still a threat to their ongoing existence. They couldn’t strip him clean, couldn’t remove the core of his strength, of his power, of his gift. Just a few more years, and she knew she could have wiped him clean. There may not have been anything left but the shell, but… that would be the least of her concerns. He left her too soon. Her eyes slid to the other side of the monitor screen. The video from Chicago–or, what was left of it–gave her hope. At first, it had enraged her; that he dared walk free. Mocking her. But that only lasted for a short period, and then her anger turned into determination. She would find him if she had to destroy every last city left on Earth. Then… her pleasure would begin again. ***** Jackie stood in the open doorway of the empty infirmary room where Michael slept. After two days of fighting for Victor’s life, Michael’s battle with his own body had forced him

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to rest. Now, he sprawled on the bed that seemed too small for his tall frame, arms and legs laid out flat, his head slipped off the side of the pillow. She finally accepted the fact that she enjoyed the slow, rolling heat that took over whenever she was around him. It hadn’t been easy. Admitting that kind of connection meant she had to admit she wanted more. And that was something she had never done before. She wasn’t exactly a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, but she wasn’t exactly a Betty Cleaver or June Crocker type, either. Which left her to wonder… what was the point? The point was she liked it. Jackie stepped into the dark room and closed the door behind her, blocking out the light from the hall. She waited the few seconds her eyes needed to adjust, slipping her shoes off to walk across the room in stocking feet. When she reached the bed, she eased herself down beside him, lying on her side with her cheek pillowed on his upper arm and her back against his side. With a low groan of pleasure, she realized this was what her strained back had subconsciously sought; the heat of another body and the support only that body could give. She closed her eyes and let her head fill with the smell of his clothes, his soap and him. Michael drew in a long, slow breath, a low sound rumbling through his chest. Jackie smiled when he shifted behind her and his opposite arm draped across her waist as his chest pressed into her back. His hand splayed across her lower stomach and he pulled her against him. Liquid heat rolled through her. “Jacqueline,” he whispered against her shoulder. There was no questioning tone, no wondering whether it was her, just the even confirmation in his voice that he knew who he held in his arms and it was okay. “Go back to sleep,” she said softly. He settled into the bed again, his breath warm on the back of her neck, the tip of his nose nuzzling her hair. Jackie let the heavy tendrils of sleep pull at her, letting herself slip away held in his arms. Then his hand shifted and his fingertips slipped beneath the hem of her sweater, brushing her stomach. Before she could school her reaction, she sucked in a sharp breath. His palm pressed hot and flat against her, and she involuntarily shifted her hips against his, eliciting a low moan from him that danced over her neck and made her skin tingle. Jackie turned onto her back, and as she faced him, he pushed himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. His other hand lingered beneath her sweater, the touch scorching her skin. She could just see the shine of his eyes in the darkness, but that was enough to make her body tingle and throb. No man had ever looked at her the way Michael did. Men had looked at her with lust in their eyes, but not Michael. It was the same with the way he said her name. No one called her Jacqueline but him, and when he said it, her name had weight and substance and no one could ever say it the same way ever again. Jackie swallowed, trying to ignore the growing heat and insistent ache in her lower body. “You should sleep.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she reached for him, sliding her hand around his throat, her fingertips lacing in his hair. Michael brushed his fingers against her temple. Stroking her skin along her hairline, his eyes shifted to watch the progress of his fingers. He shifted the hand that still rested on her stomach, sliding further beneath her sweater, drawing the hem up her body to expose her

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skin. Her breath caught, coming in short, raspy bursts. Effervescent sensation burst in her, and she shifted beneath his touch. “You’re beautiful.” His voice was heavy and wrapped around her, warming her until her clothes felt smothering and cumbersome. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she managed to say on a breath. His gaze shifted down her body, and she felt it as heavy and real as his hand on her ribs. Jackie laid still, fighting for each ragged breath, as he tentatively and gently explored her body in the most erotic, insane touches she’d ever experienced. His fingertips brushed the skin over her ribs, his knuckles skimming the underside of her breast, but he retreated and she groaned. Jackie arched her back off the bed, her fingers curling into his sleeve. Michael’s attention shifted to her face, his eyes shifting as he studied her. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, Michael?” He just shook his head, little more than a slight jerk. Jackie almost laughed–almost–and would have if her body wasn’t about to fly apart. Crave wasn’t a strong enough word. Need didn’t work either. She sat up, ignoring the momentary pinch in her back, and yanked her sweater over her head, tossing it toward the end of the bed, lying back down where she had been. “Subtle enough for you?” she asked before taking his head in her hands and pulling him down for a kiss that shot spikes of arousal straight through her. His groan against her lips spurred her forward, and she held on tight until he shifted his weight over her, pressing her into the mattress, making her senses swim as his tongue dove into her mouth. Michael’s hand folded around her side, pulling her against him, and she tried to fill her lungs with air. She shoved her hands into the open front of his flannel shirt, pushing the sleeves down his arms, only finding more aggravation at the tee shirt he wore underneath the long sleeve shirt. She didn’t wear a bra, the least he could do was not wear layers. His sleeves hung up around his wrists, and after two frustrated jerks to remove his hands, she heart the distinct rip of fabric and the shirt was gone. Michael pressed his open mouth against her shoulder and his hand finally–finally–covered her breast. “Ooooohhhgud.” Desperation took over any other thought that might have lingered in her head. Jackie wrapped her arms around his body and pulled hard at his thin shirt, freeing it from the waistband of his jeans. She sighed in pleasure when she could finally get her hands beneath his cloths and on his scorching skin. Rolling to the side just enough to free the shirt where it bunched between them, Michael grabbed the collar behind his neck and pulled the garment over his head. They both paused, eyes locked on each other, as they fought to breathe with some steady rhythm. Jackie raised her hand, surprised at how much it trembled with the need that hummed beneath her skin like a pulse weapon set to overload. She touched her fingertip to one of the many scars, both old and relatively new, that tattooed his torso. Michael watched her touch, then covered her hand with his own, holding it against his chest. He raised his chin and met her gaze. Jackie nodded, and smiled. That was enough.

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He lowered his head and kissed the upper slope of her breast, a shuddered breath moving through him. Jackie laced her fingers into his hair, panting as his mouth danced on her skin. When his tongue flicked across her nipple, she had to bite back the cry as lightning speared from her nipple to her core. No one had ever taken such care with her, no one had ever touched and caressed her like she was precious and rare, and that was how Michael made her feel. He stroked her skin and kissed her with his tongue and his mouth, tasting her, studying her reaction to each touch. When his long, wonderful fingers slipped inside the waist of her jeans, and released the top snap, Jackie curled her hands into the bedding beneath her and arched her hips to meet his touch. “Jacqueline.” His voice was black velvet on steel and her eyes fluttered open to look into his face. His eyes were impossibly dark, looking down at her, his lips slick from his kisses. “If you stop now, Michael, I’m going to hurt you. I swear to God.” One corner of his mouth tilted in a quick smile. Jackie watched with complete attention as he slid off the bed to stand beside it, and with his gaze locked on her, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, sliding his shoes off his feet at the same time. He hooked his thumbs inside the waist at each hip, and paused. Jackie rolled to her knees, kneeling on the bed to face him. Both naked from the waist up, her breasts brushed his bare chest and the heat emanating from his body left her flushed and aching. She ran her hands over his chest, feeling the small imperfections that marred his skin. Holding his gaze as long as she could, Jackie leaned in, pressed a kiss to his breastbone, and moved her hands down his trim sides to his jeans. Holding her lips to his skin, she pushed the clothing down, letting her palms scrape against his hips and thighs. The pants hit the floor with a soft thump, and the hard evidence that he wanted this as much as she did brushed against her stomach, searing silk. His hands moved up her arm, slid over her shoulders and pushed into her hair to tip her head up to him. “Kiss me, Michael.” He slanted his open lips over hers, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose as she opened to him and gave back as much as he gave her. Their tongued connected and danced together, fanning the flame. She wasn’t sure which one of them finished undoing her jeans, but when she laid back on the bed, he tugged them free. His hands never broke contact with her skin, brushing along her thighs, caressing the inside of her knees, and tracing her calves to her ankles as he removed the last barrier between them. Michael knelt on the bed, the mattress giving slightly beneath his weight, and his lips branded her skin as he moved his mouth back up her body, following the same path his hands had moments before. Everything throbbed, pulsed, hummed for him. His fingertips pressed into her hips as his body settled in the space between her thighs. Jackie held on to his shoulders, urging him to move up her body and kiss her lips again. His kisses were a drug and she couldn’t get enough. “Forgive me if I don’t do this well,” he whispered against her mouth, their breath mingling in the space between.

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Jackie almost laughed, but kissed him instead. “Even if we stopped right now, this would be the most amazing—but don’t you dare!” She felt his heart pounding impossibly fast as his weight pressed into her and she wrapped her arms around his body. Ragged, hot breath seared her skin as he tucked his face into the bend of her neck. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. With excruciating slowness, he pressed his erection against her and pushed into her heat. Each fraction of an inch sent shockwaves of icy heat through her and she dug her nails into his shoulder, her chest hurting as she tried to fill the vacuum of her lungs. Michael hissed sharply, a low rumbling vibrating through him. His body shook and his hands slid beneath her back to curl around her shoulders from underneath. Jackie’s head swam and she shifted her hands down his spine to flex her fingers into his backside, raising her knees to draw him in deeper. Nothing would be deep enough. He pulled free and she gasped at the second she thought he would leave her, but he thrust into her again and her cry of pleasure swallowed the gasp. Again and again, he slid from her with painful slowness only to push into her hard and firm. Her body coiled, drew in, twisted tighter and tighter like a spring. Burning cold heat flushed her skin, flashing out from their joining. Each thrust into her body drew a gasp and she pressed her eyes closed. “Michael!” she cried as her orgasm spiraled out and seized every muscle of her body. He drove himself into her, rocking his hips and she bit down on the hard muscle of his shoulder to keep from screaming. His body went limp and Jackie wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stroking his sweat-dampened skin and hair as he rested his head on her breast. She stared up at the ceiling, waves of tingling undulating through her. Michael whispered her name, just her name, but with more cherishing weight than she had heard before. She smiled and ran her nails over his scalp, and realized she was crying.

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Chapter Fourteen

The sun was hot on his back, warming his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. He squinted at the sun, the glare off the golden statue of Quetzalcatl, God of All, nearly blinding him. The field of maize he stood in swayed with the wind, brushing his arms as it undulated around him. He hadn’t been here in a very long time. A lifetime. A dozen lifetimes. But now, it was different. He hadn’t known it before. He knew now. Before, he had been someone else. Another name. Another past. A stolen past that was impossible to regain. Now, he was who he was, who he had been for centuries, and he could no longer hide. He didn’t want to hide. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. This time, he was here to die. He walked through the rows of maize toward the giant temple. It didn’t belong here. It belonged in the jungle. But it came here for him. To shorten his journey. A sinister hiss danced on the wind and a black shadow shifted over the field. He raised his head and looked at the darkening sky. Once, the malicious presence terrified him, had him running further and deeper… but far was never far enough, and deep was never deep enough. He wasn’t running anymore. ***** Beverly stirred from sleep, stretching her back as she sat up, her muscles protesting against the awkward position she had slept in. Sitting in a hard chair at Victor’s bedside, she had pillowed her head on her arms and managed to find some rest. She rolled her head, trying to work the kinks from her neck, and blinked the sleep from her eyes as she glanced at him. Her heart froze in her chest and she immediately moved to her feet to see him closer. His skin was sallow and ashen, his features flaccid. Beverly touched his cheek and his skin was cold. Oh, God! No! ***** The loud crash of the room door slamming open bolted Michael from his sleep. He tried to sit up, but with Jacqueline curled against his side, he couldn’t. He blinked and focused just as Beverly reached the bed. “What’s wrong?” Her hands flew frantically, the signs mingled with her urgent pull on his arm. Jacqueline sat up beside him, holding the sheet to her breasts. “Michael?” “I’ll be right there.” Beverly nodded and ran from the room as Michael tossed back the blankets. He picked up his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, yanking on his shirt. Not bothering with the second shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed and quickly pulled on his shoes. He heard Jacqueline behind him, and by the time he stood, she was already half-dressed. “What’s wrong?” “Victor.” *****

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CJ stretched and reached out across the bed, finding only cool sheets and the imprint of Nick’s head in the pillow. She yawned and sat up, glancing toward the partially open bedroom door. From the hall, she heard the echo of Nick’s voice carrying from the nursery, and she smiled. She slid from the warmth of the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, picking up Nick’s big, flannel shirt from the end of the bed. Slipping her arms into the long sleeves, she smiled as the soft cotton wrapped around her. It smelled of him; clean and masculine. Walking in bare feet across the wooden floor, she left the bedroom and stood in the doorway of the nursery to observe without disturbing. Nick stood at the dressing table, wearing only a pair of faded jeans. Even his feet were bare. His silver-gray hair was mussed and ruffled, but he didn’t seem to care. He talked in a low, soothing voice to Nicole as he finished bundling her in her softest, pink blanket. Her tiny arms flailed free and she made gurgling giggle sounds as she kicked against the restraint. “Is that how you’re gonna play this?” he asked, tugging the blanket around her legs again. Nicole kicked her legs and flailed her arms in unison, freeing her limbs again with a giggle. A sweet warmth welled in CJ’s chest when Nick bend over and nuzzled his nose into his granddaughter’s stomach. A low, pure laugh echoed through the small room and tiny fists curled into his short hair. Nick straightened, sucked in a quick breath, and did it again. It rendered the same result. A deep belly laugh from Nicole. CJ wiped away the tears from her cheeks, and smiled because for once they were tears of joy. Maybe… just maybe… everything was going to be okay. ***** “We’ve located a small clustering of biological readings.” “That’s all? Just biologicals?” “And an increased level of technology. Out of place for the region.” “Adjust orbit.” ***** “Damn it, Vic! You are not giving up on me!’ Michael pounded his fist into the center of Victor’s chest. Again. Again! “Tell me what to do,” Jacqueline shouted. “There.” He pointed to a glass cabinet in the center of the room. “Bring me one of the infusion syringes on the top shelf.” He pounded Victor’s chest again. His body bounced on the bed, but with no other reaction. “No!” Jacqueline ran back, the syringe in her hand. Michael took it from her, and pulled the protective sleeve off with his teeth, slamming the infusion end into Victor’s chest, right between two rips for direct impact with his heat. “You will live, damn it!” He slapped his palm on Victor’s chest over his heart, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind. *****

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“Bryony offered to bring all the Phoenix commanders together for a tête-à-tête. With all the world leaders dead, I guess it leaves it up to Phoenix to clean up the mess.” Caitlin arched an eyebrow as she set her coffee cup down. “Bryony? You call the Queen of the entire Aretu race by her first name?” Nick shifted Nicole in his lap so she faced out, her little spine against his stomach. She reached for his spoon and he gave it to her, despite Caitlin’s slight look of disapproval. He smirked. “You know me. Not much for titles.” “Uh huh.” “Jealous?” Caitlin shook her head. “Not in the least. After all, I’m the one you married.” Nick kept his gaze down, shaking his pinky in Nicole’s tiny grip. She tilted her head to look up at him, a toothless grin on her face. He chuckled. “Well, she’s already joined to the Prince Regent, so…” A piece of muffin bounced off his chest. The communicator Annora gave him twittered on the table. Nick picked it up, winking at Caitlin. “Maybe it’s Bryony.” “Oh, shut up.” Nicole reached for the black oval, her tiny fingers flexing, but Nick kept it beyond her grasp. “Yeah?” “Nicholas, one of the Sorracchi ships has dispatched multiple crafts and their trajectory indicates they may be en route to your location.” Caitlin’s eyes rounded and she was on her feet, taking Nicole from him. “Crap,” he cursed. “Where are you now?” “We’ve assumed orbit five-hundred miles southwest of your base. The captain is adjusting our flight path. We are unable to engage, Nicholas.” “Yeah. I know.” ***** Victor’s body arched off the bed, a rattling gasp filling his lungs with air. The monitors that had read flat moments before sparked and exploded, shards of electricity flying into the room. Michael shielded his eyes with one arm, keeping his hand on Victor’s chest. A sucking force pulled the strength from his limbs, making him sway as he tried to mainta