Alien, Awakening (Alien, Mine Series Book 2) Page 28

  Damn her man was fierce.

  “Are you well?” he demanded.

  She nodded. “Yes, we both are. Are you?”

  “Good.” He urged her towards the teleporter tower. “We have cleared the area, though reinforcements are on the way.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Ssileela Shaharna, do you require assistance?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  Kat gripped T’Hargen’s bicep. “T’Hargen, answer me.”

  He cast her a quick, quizzical glance. “To what question, my Kathryn?”

  “Are you well?”

  He grinned. “Not a scratch.”

  She raised her eyebrows and sent a pointed look at his wounds.

  He shrugged at her. “They’re not scratches.”

  She cast him a look of amused reproof then refocused on their destination. A straight path seared through the once neat box hedges of the labyrinth. Shot, battered, and, well, puddled Bluthen lay everywhere.

  “Don’t look, Shaharna.”

  “No, I want to see. I need to know the consequences of the actions I have chosen.”

  TL zoomed in to hover before Kat and she assessed him for injury. He didn’t have a scratch either.

  “TL, you dissociated the Bluthen? Like the fireflies?”

  “I did. It was more efficient to use the broader beam than the confined stream of my lasers. Thirty-three more Bluthen will arrive within a minute.”

  Wonderful.

  T’Hargen grabbed her elbow and hustled her forwards. She snatched Shaharna’s hand and they both trailed in his wake like iron filings drawn by a magnet. They skirted liquefied and solid state remains, scuttled through the breaks in the hedges, and rushed into the tower entrance. The doorway sealed behind them.

  ~ ~ ~

  T’Hargen repressed the surge of victory that speared through him and scanned the sparse interior of the tower for any threat. Pale-blue crystal acrylic lined the floor, smooth frost-white walls encompassed the teleporter alcove. He couldn’t afford to become over-confident now, but still, he’d kept his Kathryn safe! Yes, this plan of his could work. They could do this together. She and him and Drone. The little Blufem seemed to have some of his Kathryn in her, too. Her remarkable inner strength came as a surprise and taunted his shameful preconceptions. She hadn’t been gleeful at the death of the males, more disappointed that this was what it had come to.

  “Do you have any burn cream in that tool cornucopia you call trousers?” Kathryn asked.

  “I’ll tend them later, dear.”

  “We’re safe now, aren’t we? I’m sure we can take a few minutes to doctor your wounds.”

  “We are safe for the moment, but . . .”

  We need to continue.

  He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to hurry her towards an encounter the thought of which must, at the very least, appal her. She’d faced the Bluthen, but now she would have to confront the Brain Machine Interface. Those memories must be horrific, and would no doubt surface the closer she came to linking with the machine, more than likely they haunted her already. But he couldn’t intervene, and not because their need of three descendants. No, he couldn’t try to persuade her from this course of action because it was her choice. She knew what she was doing.

  He’d been present when Sandrea had explained the torture she’d endured when the Bluthen had forced her to interact with a BMI. He felt certain Kathryn’s experience had been no less traumatic. He believed the Masterframes would go to great lengths to protect descendants from any form of distress—one at least had already done so by sacrificing herself—and he felt certain they would not knowingly allow a descendant to suffer. Yet would the ghosts of Kathryn’s torment compel her to relive the ordeal when no ordeal existed? She was strong, yes, but some nightmares never relented.

  Worry gnawed at him. The need to communicate his concern demanded expression.

  “TL, you go with Shaharna. No buts.”

  Kathryn’s business-like tone reassured him, but he knew his woman, her courage would not allow her fears to rule her. Still, he did not like knowing the next step of their mission weighed on her. Drone grumbled about his orders and he empathised, he didn’t like being separated from Kathryn either, especially if his presence could support her.

  Kathryn shepherded Ssileela Shaharna into the teleporter recess similar to that on Shalringfrey, Drone hovered over the Blufem’s head. A blue stream of light ribboned them and they disappeared.

  He slipped his hand around Kathryn’s nape, brought her round to face him and rested his forehead against hers.

  “Kathryn, I . . .”

  She stared back at him. Her hand cupped his jaw and brought forth that wonderful feeling of touching home. “I’ll be alright, my love,” she murmured. “I’ll see you later.”

  She stepped back, a cerulean-blue spiral enveloped her, and then she was gone.

  His heart went with her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kat materialised in a small, windowless, cream-tinted room. Crisp, clear projections as of someone strolling through green meadows sprinkled with colourful flowers lent a sense of serenity and diffuse light to the room. A silver-grey ‘mercury’ couch wavered gently near a curved section of wall. A delicate white table held a cup of what looked and smelled like hot enchi, and a plate of possibly fruit.

  She stared at the couch as though it were the original wolf in sheep’s clothing. Echoes of pain and extreme vulnerability seeped from her memory like dark, evil spirits intent on reclaiming her soul. Her heart beat a painful tempo, anxiety pressed against her throat like an oppressive hand.

  I don’t want to be here.

  Did she have what it took to do this? To place herself in that dreadful position again? But it’d be different this time. Right? There wouldn’t be nerve-wrenching agony, she’d be the one in charge. Right?

  God, why hadn’t she thought to confirm those things with Masterframe when she’d so blithely decided to stick her hand up for this assignment? She’d just assumed that because the Masterframes had demonstrated responsibility and compassion that any experience with a BMI would be benign. A little verbal reassurance would go down well right about now, but that was a catch-22. To get the reassurance she’d have to interact with the BMI. Well, she was stuck with her own decision. No help for it. She’d made her choice, the necessary delivery of that action was at hand.

  She clenched her fists and perched gingerly on the side of the couch. It gave a little then moulded to her shape. The ghosts of brutal hands forcing her to their will slid like curdled milk through her stomach. She cringed and shivered. Soft, calming, ethereal harmony floated to her on gentle cadences. She lifted her head. That was different. Good different. She clung to the dissimilarity, clung to each thing that highlighted the discrepancies between then and now. The utter lack of cruel hands, of cold, detached Bluthen dispassionately inspecting her. The welcoming softness of the couch, not cold, hard metal. The soothing music, the food and drink, all geared towards the comfort of the brain preparing to interface with the machine.

  She slid a little further onto the couch. Waited a moment for her courage to refill, then swung her legs up and leaned back into a reclining position. Apprehension stiffened her muscles. Nothing sprang at her, nothing foisted itself onto her head with bruising force. Nothing violated her self-will. Her heart tripped the light-speed fantastic, and she drew a long breath.

  “Um, okay, I’m ready.”

  The peaceful melody continued, tranquillity its very essence. The video images moved towards a sparkling lake. And that was all. She scratched her head.

  Engage? Or—

  “Initiate.”

  A small section of wall by her side slid back with a muted hiss. Light glinted off a slim, round, ribbon of gold, like a circlet crown. She was
glad it hadn’t descended on her from behind.

  So that seemed clear, it was her decision to pick up the interface and proceed or not. She definitely liked this version of BMI-ing much better than previous sessions. Still, the worst test was yet to come. She reached out, hesitated over the interface, then fixed a tentative grip on it. It might look like gold, but the giving, felt-like texture of rose petals met her fingertips. She dragged in a deep, ragged breath.

  Now all I have to do is put it on.

  An uneasy shiver rippled down her nerves.

  Easier said than done. Come on, Kathryn Holden, it’s not like it’s a clown.

  She lifted the interface, held it over her head, winced, and lowered it. Silky coolness caressed her forehead. The band settled then firmed a little without discomfort. She stared at the ceiling, waited, breath held, for the other shoe to drop. Nothing. No probe pierced her temple, no metal band squeezed her skull until she thought it might pop.

  Okay, all good so far. Now what?

  She closed her eyes and searched within for a clue of what to do next. Her mind lurched as though she’d slipped sideways through a p-brane. She clutched the couch.

  “Welcome, Kathryn.” Masterframe’s mellifluous voice glided through her mind with the natural grace of a fish through water. That was new. “Are you settled? Do you require anything?”

  “Oh, um, no. Thanks.” She squirmed a little. “Are T’Hargen and Shaharna okay?”

  “I’m here,” Shaharna piped up, her machine voice tinkling like fairy bells. “This is very exciting. Masterframe has been showing me lots of pictures. They are wonderful.”

  “Good to hear it. And T’Hargen?”

  “He has entered the machine,” Masterframe replied, “but I cannot find him.”

  Frantic unease knifed at her. “What do you mean, you can’t find him? Is he alright?”

  “I can monitor his vitals and they are well within the tolerance levels I noted in him when he first arrived.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “He has interfaced, but his mind is hidden from me.”

  “How?”

  “I do not know.”

  Shit. Crap, I think I said that aloud in here.

  “You did. If you project strongly enough, in here it will become manifest. I, too, muttered an unsavoury curse I emulated from the Bluthen. Though our calculations indicated the possibility for physical harm to Adjunct T’Hargen, this loss of mind we did not expect.”

  “Loss of mind.” Intense distaste for that phrase tightened her lips. “Then we’d better find it for him. All I can sense is a vast . . . I dunno, something. Like I’m standing in a huge, darkened cavern, or I’m inside Google Maps Street View with the lights off.”

  “I cannot identify this Google Maps, but the streets you perceive are the digital processing routes of the machine. Illuminate your surrounds by thinking of it.”

  “Great. Let there be light.”

  Gentle, golden radiance filtered across the virtual landscape like a shower of pixie dust. Round-leafed, blue and orange bushes lined multiple levels of criss-crossing, transparent teal pathways that seemed to lead into infinity. Here and there, gossamer, pearl-white ribbons gently twirled towards mysterious destinations. Not one sound resonated through the vast expanse.

  “Okay, so maybe Google Parks, with a twist. Right, how do I go about this?”

  “We recommend you attempt a search of the machine.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “Theoretically?”

  “Not a word I want to hear right now, but yeah, okay.”

  “Let your mind wander the pathways.”

  “I shall try, too.” Shaharna’s consciousness appeared beside her, a sparkling, ethereal, nymph-shaped cloud.

  Kat looked down at her own essence. She appeared more like a butterfly crossed with a dragon.

  “Thank you, my friend, you go that way.” She gestured to her right.

  “I will.”

  Kat followed a path to her left, threw her consciousness forwards into the myriad information lanes, and sought hints of T’Hargen. Fierce determination drove her forwards. His body was okay, his mind would be, too. All she had to do was find him. Piece of cake.

  “You okay, Shaharna? Find anything?”

  She had the oddest sensation that, if necessary, she could be here and there with her friend at the same time.

  “Nothing yet, Kat. I can only feel you and Masterframe.”

  She picked up her pace and flew forwards, faster and faster.

  “Come on, my love, where are you? Give me a sign.”

  In the distance, something moved between levels, a buttery glow with slowly shifting parts, like shadows dancing against the light.

  “T’Hargen?”

  Soft echoes and whispers drifted to her. Familiar sensations of a passionate touch and bright, burning emotions bombarded her. The ghosts in the glow clarified into images of her and T’Hargen making love. It seemed familiar . . .

  “Oh, crap, that’s a memory.”

  She blanked it from her mind, mentally crossed her fingers that perhaps Shaharna hadn’t—

  “Is it always that . . . lovely?”

  “Damn.” Embarrassment flooded her. “Ah, yes, it can be, especially with someone you care for.”

  “I’m sorry, Kat, I did not mean to cause you discomfort.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My fault for projecting so powerfully. I think perhaps you and I are going to have to have a girl talk when this is all over.”

  “Yes, please! I want that. I mean”—Shaharna’s excited tone dropped to shy yearning—“what you have with T’Hargen.”

  “It’s not a given, but I can equip you as best I can.”

  She set off again, focused her mind on T’Hargen’s face, his rich, mocha scent, the timbre of his deep voice. Another glow appeared to her left. She veered towards it, concentrated on his much-loved features. The sensual movements of twined figures sharpened into . . . her and T’Hargen.

  “Damn, not again.”

  She hardened her mind to the memory and thought determinedly of the beautiful lustre of TL’s skin. The image did not waver. She studied it. This was different. This was as though seen from T’Hargen’s point of view.

  “T’Hargen?”

  No reply came to her hopeful heart.

  “T’Hargen!” She reached out to the image with her mind. And there he was. The deep, golden glow was him. She gave him a mental prod. Nothing. No recognition. No response. At. All.

  “I believe he is caught within a memory so seductive and powerful it could trap him there forever,” Masterframe said.

  “No! Not gonna happen. He’s mine. I won’t let him.”

  She pulled at him, trying to drag him from the visions that held him an enthralled prisoner. He would not budge. Okay, so in the real world his body might be stronger than hers, but she was damned if she’d let him out-stubborn her. She virtual-slapped him upside his consciousness.

  “Goddammit, T’Hargen Mhartak!” she snarled at him. “STOP living in the past or we’re never going to have a future.”

  “Kathryn?” Confusion riddled his voice.

  A hot wave of relief flooded her.

  “Yes! Yes, it’s me. Concentrate on my voice. You were daydreaming. Come back to me, my love, focus on my voice.”

  All around them erotic images of them slow danced and spun.

  “But . . . you’re here.”

  She understood him. He thought the memory was reality, and yet here she was in his brain yelling at him.

  Shaharna’s presence appeared suddenly by her side.

  “What the Frak!” T’Hargen roared in bewildered outrage.

  Relief a
nd amusement crashed through her in a giddy wave. “Well done, Shaharna!”

  Awkward embarrassment rolled from her friend in waves. “I’m sorry, Kat, I know these images are personal, but I heard what Masterframe said and wanted to help.”

  “No apologies. I imagine you showing up in his, um, dream shocked him back into the here and now.”

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” T’Hargen demanded.

  “We just had a slight malfunction with the machine-adjunct synchronisation, dear. All good now. So what do you say we get this planetary security net up and running?”

  Chapter 14

  And by g’Nel’s faithful souls, we did.

  T’Hargen leaned against the food preparation counter in his home and waited for Kathryn to emerge from her bath. Contentment and pride brimmed in him at being able to fulfil that desire for her. While the past week had been hectic, he’d carved out time to sculpture the tub from translucent crystal-acrylic, that way he could admire her luscious shape as she bathed. Kathryn had been delighted and lovingly admired the inlaid seasoned malaple, burnished to golden red, not to mention the grand vista afforded through the panoramic windows of the forest and mountains. She’d promised to show him her appreciation when she’d finished soaking.

  Elated by her enjoyment, he’d nevertheless retreated to the kitchen. There were things he wished to settle with her before he could allow himself to run his hands over her naked skin, to cradle the weight of her magnificent breasts, experience the uncharted territory of testing the texture of her nipples with his tongue. His shaft hardened with a glorious ache and he craved to—

  Agh! He gripped the stone bench top, dropped his chin to his chest, and forced himself not to go at her like a laraxdon after a wild grounddeer. Must con-cen-trate. I have to get this right.