Alien, Mine (27 page)

As the soft radiance of ambient light filtered through the cabin darkness, Sandrea roamed a searching hand over the bed for Eugen, and failed to find him. She huffed out a sigh of disappointment and accepted the fact their idyll had most likely come to an end.

No doubt the cosmos is demanding attention.

A lush smile graced her lips, then her stomach prodded her with a sharpened arrow of hunger.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered and hauled herself from bed and stretched.

Her not-quite-fy-awake brain slurred her voice command for more illumination into a hybrid accent of Angrigan sibilance and Australian twang. On her third attempt bright light flooded the room. Dexter bobbed his head up from where he curled on the covers and blinked at her.

“Breakfast?” she invited.

His muzzy emerald stare remained unfocused, then he dropped his head back to the luxury of a cushioned rest. A second later he sprang up as though her words finally penetrated his sleepy brain.

“You’ll just have to wait while I shower.”

His haughty down-the-nose stare plainly communicated,
You could’ve waited until then to wake me.

Feeling the dawn of more hunger pains, she made a dash for the shower, laughing in delight when steam highlighted the letters ILYL on the shower stall acrylic glass.

I Love You, Love.

She’d taught Eugen that last night. A few minutes later she hauled on some clothing, let Dexter settle on her shoulder, and, as she’d barely spent five hours on the ship on her previous visit, requested directions to the mess deck from the computer.

Emerging from the cabin into a quiet, pale cream corridor, a private smile flickered around her lips at the memory of Eugen feeding her and what
that
had led to. Her feet beat a smart clip toward the mess and she greeted crewmembers with a smile and a nod. A mild frowned settled across her brow as they regarded her with a mixture of respect and . . . surely that wasn’t
libidinous
speculation?

She strode into the mess and for a moment the charming and surprising charcoal grey, burnt orange and soft cream décor diverted her attention. Kendril stood from a table and hailed her. Sandrea veered in her direction and returned the welcoming smiles of Kulluk, Dovzshak, and Ragnon.

“Good morning, all. How are we?”

From the corner of her eye she caught the intense scrutiny of a couple of soldiers at a nearby table. A smirk laced Ragnon’s features and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you done?”

He widened his eyes in a fair imitation of innocence. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You’ve been up to something.”

A sheepish though unrepentant grin widened his mouth and he leaned close. “Well, I might have mentioned to some of the crew your proclivity for Boy Toys.”

“
What
?”

“Oh!” Pure disappointment laced Kendril’s voice. “I thought I’d started that rumour.”

Her head whipped toward Kendril. “Shrenk’!”

“What?”

Kendril returned her shocked gaze with innocent query.

What indeed?

There was no harm in their game. They certainly seemed to be getting a great deal of enjoyment out of winding up their fellow soldiers. Hadn’t she been guilty of perpetrating similar pranks in the past? Besides, Eugen would shred anyone who came on to her.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Ragnon offered and, speaking in a volume loud enough to be heard at nearby tables, added, “Got to keep my Girl Toy’s strength up.”

Sandrea shook her head in mild despair as he walked away.

“Where’d you learn to shoot, Sandrea?” Dovzshak asked.

“My uncle owns a cattle station. My brothers and I learned how to safely handle rifles from a young age.” Fond remembrance brought a grin to her face. “We’d practice every chance we got. When we were older my dad allowed us to accompany him and my uncle and a few of the ringers when they’d cull the scrub bulls. You have to be damn quick and accurate when a couple of ton of horned, psychotic testosterone comes charging out of the mallee at you, hell bent on reducing you and your horse to Spam.”

“I imagine. What sort of weapons did you use?”

She dropped with easy familiarity into an explanation of contemporary Earth firearms. Oddly though, the subject felt almost alien, as though a part of a lost world. Ragnon returned and slid a tray before her.

“Thanks, Rag’.” She eyed the food with hunger, and tucked in. On the point of finishing her meal, a subtle change in atmosphere swept the room and her senses guessed the cause before her friends rocketed to their feet.

“As you were,” Eugen’s voice prompted from behind. 

The squad remained standing and she wondered at the sudden unease radiating from their tense forms. She turned a delighted countenance to Eugen and though he did not offer her the open adoration he did in private, he was nonetheless obviously pleased to see her.

“Sandrea, my dear, I wonder if you would join me?”

She blinked. He’d called her ‘my dear’, in public, openly acknowledging them as a couple. Something joyous galloped around her system yelling, Yes! Yes! Okay, so it was probably no secret they’d been holed up in his quarters for days, but still . . . Tamping down her elation, she raised an eyebrow.

“Has this something to do with those calls you’ve been monitoring for the last quarter and a bit?”

A touch of chagrin flickered across Eugen’s features. “You noticed that?”

I notice everything about you.

“I did.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood, as it seemed apparent he meant now. “What’s this about?”

An emotion that seemed to affect Eugen in a most unpleasant manner flickered across his face. “I must ask you to observe something.”

Some quality in his tone generated a presentiment of dread and she eyed him warily. “Like what?”

He turned to Kulluk. “You have your assignment, Sergeant.”

Kulluk accepted the order with a nod. He took his leave with a, “Miss Sandrea” before departing with Dovzshak.

Eugen’s sombre gaze returned to her.

God, he’s treating me like a paper doll about to be sent for a walk in the rain without an umbrella.

“What’s going on, General?” she asked.

“For the past four quarters something has been trailing us.”

“And?”

“I need to know if you can identify it.”

“A spaceship?”
This is about a space ship?

“Of sorts.”

She clamped a hand over her heart, just in case she might need a little CPR action after almost collapsing with relief.

“Jesus, Eugen, I thought you wanted me to identify some mangled, possibly human, remains.”

His sharp inhalation rasped in her ears. “No.” He turned her toward the exit and she welcomed the warmth of his hand on the small of her back as he guided her from the mess. “But I fear this could prove as traumatic.”

He took her arm in a gentle grasp and marched her through the ship with Kendril and Ragnon escorting. Sandrea contemplated why
she
should be asked to identify an alien craft and Eugen’s fears that her ability to do so may prove to be of a very disturbing nature. By the time he ushered her into a room with a large, oval table facing a full-wall viewscreen she had a fair idea that he suspected the floating automaton from the planet was what trailed them.

The viewscreen flickered, but instead of the expected image of a spacecraft, a Magran and an Angrigan appeared. She eyed their Alliance Council ceremonial robes. Radiating protective gallantry, Eugen settled her into a seat then took a stand behind her.

“Sandrea,” he said, “this is Councillor Darlnron.”

The Angrigan nodded at her.

“And Councillor Hognan.”

Hognan leaned forward and peered toward her shoulder. “That is a caped lizard, yes? Magnificent! Have you named him?”

The Angrigan Councillor grumbled something indistinct.

“Dexter, Councillor,” she replied.

He waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry about all that Councillor nonsense, the name’s Hognan. I shall call you Sandrea. Now, has General Mhartak informed you of the reason for this meeting?”

“I have not,” Eugen replied.

“No? Why not?”

“I am not aware of it, myself, Councillor.”

Hognan’s eye-ridges rose. “Is that so?” His eyes swivelled to his Angrigan counterpart then back to Eugen. “Well, never mind.” He made eye contact with her again. “We have decoded log entries recovered from the raid on asteroid S799Alpha. That’s where General Mhartak found you.”

Eugen’s warm hand pressed the round of her shoulder.

“Sandrea, some of these logs pertain to you,” Hognan said, then his mouth thinned and his eyes narrowed in apparent thought as he continued to stare at her. “You may find their content unsettling. I certainly found them disturbing. Do you wish for some . . . stimulant, or a calmative?”

What I wish is to not have to go through this at all, but obviously that’s not an option.

She curled her fingers into the palms of her hands and shook her head. “Thank you, Hognan, no. Please proceed.”

Eugen’s grip on her shoulder tightened, and Dexter bumped his head against her jaw and rumbled.

“Can we get on with this?” Darlnron muttered.

Hognan ignored him and scanned the tablet in his hands.

“You were captured during a raid on your planet,” Darlnron spoke up brusquely. “A number of unidentified species from other worlds were also abducted in different raids. All subjects were experimented on, humans were the most amenable”—his upper lip twitched—“to mind programming and automaton biosync. All subjects, excluding c
2
r101
23
t
9
X, died during experimentation. Subject c
2
r101
23
t
9
X proved resistant to mind programming and was discarded without termination so the effects of starvation and exposure could be monitored.”

“You, Sandrea,” Hognan inserted in a gentle tone, “are subject c
2
r101
23
t
9
X.”

Yeah, I guessed that.

“Further information,” Darlnron continued, “has come to light. General Mhartak, the assault you carried out on the Bluthen lunar base Krezshorv, a week after the raid on S799Alpha exterminated a number of viable human subjects for the Bluthen biosync program.”

Eugen’s hand lifted from her shoulder. She snatched it back, wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and held him firm. Sorrow for the suffering her fellow humans would have endured and for Eugen for the torment he’d suffer knowing he’d killed them, weighed on her heart. She sent her gaze to his. Surprise and horror lurked in the depths of his eyes as he stared down at her.

“I didn’t know . . .”

His appalled whisper tore at her. She pressed her fingers into the tense strength of his forearm.

“Trust me, Eugen, you did them a favour.” She stared into his eyes, willing him to believe her, to forgive himself.

“There is more,” Darlnron imposed.

There’s always bloody more.

She mouthed
, I love you
, then turned to the screen.

“What’s the other shoe, Hognan?”

The Councillor’s head tilted sideways and a frown teased his forehead. A moment later his features cleared.

“We suspect the Bluthen have devised a tactical plan against the Alliance that possibly necessitates the involvement of a biosync resource.”

“That is why they are hunting Miss Fairbairn?” Eugen questioned. His hand turned and gripped her palm. “You believe she is the sole survivor of this biosync program and they need her to realize this plan?”

Oh, shit.

Hognan nodded. “That is our conclusion.”

“Have you shown the subject the craft?” Darlnron demanded. “Does she recognize it?”

“The subject has a name, Councillor,” Eugen growled.

“General, please show Sandrea the captured Bluthen craft that the
Vega
has in tow,” Hognan asked.

A view of star-speckled black space appeared on the left side of the viewscreen. The image flickered, magnified, and then a ship appeared. She subjected it to an intent study. With nothing other than the Galactic background to measure perspective against, she couldn’t define its size, but its configuration evoked no response. The image revolved to offer a 360
o
viewpoint. Finally, she shook her head and looked up over her shoulder at Eugen.

“I find nothing about that familiar.”

“Send your team in, General,” Darlnron ordered.

“I am quite capable of directing this mission, Councillor, without the benefit of your limited experience,” Eugen offered politely. “My team is already in position and preparing to board the craft.”

You tell him, Eugen.
“Team?” she asked.

“Lieutenant Graegen, Sergeant Kulluk, Privates Dovzshak and Kiresel. Their surveillance will be projected onto the viewer.” He squeezed her hand. “Any observations you may wish to make will be most welcome.”

His protective, loving smile warmed her heart. She returned it, then turned back to the viewscreen. The static image flickered into real time to show a shuttle circling the alien craft.

“Are you receiving the transmission, Councillors?” Eugen asked.

“We are,” Hognan confirmed.

“No sign of defensive shields or armaments,” Kulluk announced.

“There’s a docking port here, General,” Lieutenant Graegen informed.

“Proceed.”

The shuttle rafted up against the larger craft and the view switched to Graegen’s perspective. A loud hiss whistled across the comm then Kiresel advised, “Pressurization complete.” He tapped out a sequence on a console display and a panel in the floor snapped back. Kulluk crouched, reached into the hole, and pumped a stubby handle. A hatch slid open.

Dovzshak squeezed through the narrow access followed by Kulluk, Graegen, and Kiresel. A small, round chamber appeared, crammed with technical equipment and a slightly curved, metallic, almost vertical platform recessed into a bulkhead.