Avenging Enjel (6 page)

“More exercise. More practice. Finding my account balances and seeing if I can afford anything other than the bodysuits. Don’t get me wrong, I like them, but I miss earrings and dresses. I was always a little girly.”

“The Whiccins have an excellent marketplace for that sort of thing.”

“Do they? I will take it under advisement. I am guessing, with the Guardian base hidden, that I can’t just order the clothing for delivery.”

“It is always best to get the sizes taken in person.”

“Fair enough. In that case, I will do some research on Whiccin dress shops.” She kissed him quickly and rolled out of bed before he could deepen the kiss. She landed on her butt but was up and across the floor in seconds, thanks to the enhancement.

“You are definitely fast.” He was sitting with his wings flexing as he stretched his hypnotically arranged musculature.

Lexi could understand why her ancient ancestors had confused these aliens with divine beings. They were humbling to look at and made Lexi feel awkward and gauche in comparison.

She sighed and stepped into her bodysuit. It was up and sealed before he was out of bed. “Oh, I ate some of your meal.”

“It was your meal. The bots keep tabs on our awake status and deliver meals at intervals. Once they know your rhythm, they will follow you around with snacks.”

Lexi laughed at the mental image.

Myrik headed for the lav, and she quickly finished the remainder of the meal. She was exceedingly hungry. Her body was still adapting to its changes.

When he came out of the lav and put on a new uniform, she asked, “What made the Whiccins take up genetic manipulation and psychic enhancement?”

He shrugged, slipping the uniform pants up his legs and carefully tucking his erection to one side. The upper part of his uniform was separate. He slipped his arms in and pressed the closure behind his back, under his wings, and then, he moved his fingers around the neckline to complete the upper closure. He pressed a button on the front of the neckline and the upper part of the suit snugged in and sealed to the leggings.

“Nice.” She admired the fit.

“Thank you. It was tech created by a Guardian ten years ago. He had a tail and needed an effective way to close his suit around it.”

“It certainly is effective. You can’t even tell that the suit comes apart into two pieces.”

“That is the idea. On Jela, we wear everything split up the back. This is much more decorous.”

She snickered and headed out of his room toward the kitchen. The bots were on preparation mode, so she guessed that the others were on their way.

Myrik held out his hand, and she took it, letting him lead her into the garden. She blushed when he looked at the flowers and her particular marking pattern.

“What happened here?”

“I was practicing. I just stunned the very edges of the flower. It took a bit of effort, but you can thank these bushes for me not scorching your cock off by accident.” She wrinkled her nose.

“It would have been a nasty jolt, I will give you that.”

Jolt. The word stuck in her mind. It would be a good Guardian name, but she would need a mask to go with her suit, though—come to think of it—the Drafu didn’t know what she looked like out of her armour.

She checked the download from earlier, the bounty on her head was made out for Negotiator Under. There was no physical description and that gave her a bit of hope. Unless they found the medical centre records, they wouldn’t know what she looked like.

“What were you just doing?” Myrik frowned at her.

“Checking the details for the bounty on my head.”

He grabbed her by the arms. “What?”

“The Drafu put a bounty on the head of Negotiator Under.”

Myrik winced. “How long have you known?”

“Since I came out of the can. The Imperial Consort was not shy about telling me about it.”

He rubbed his head. “I recall her saying something about that, but I was busy staring at your expressions.”

“Well, she did, they are and I am getting ready for whenever the attack comes.”

Myrik sighed and was distracted by the engines behind them.

The Guardians were home.

Dinner was uncomfortable for Lexi, but since everyone was laughing at her expense, she decided to roll with it.

“Well, Theory, since you enjoyed the performance so much, I will repeat it at my leisure.” She lifted her water glass to him.

He suddenly looked a little less smug.

Strike shook his head. “It will be unlikely that you will be with Winger while we are out on assignment again.”

She sipped at her water. “Oh, I am pretty sure I can repeat the audio performance without anyone else in the room.”

Theory coughed violently, and a grinning Pulse pounded him on the back.

Strike gave her a speculative look. “Your species can climax without a partner?”

“Yes. Good thing too or we would have gone completely insane by now.”

Winger laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong, it is much better with a partner, but to relieve a bit of stress, there is nothing like a bit of effort with a rewarding finish.” It was the most vague way she could find to describe it.

The conversation degenerated as the men compared their species and which ones could manage masturbation without an audience.

Today’s dinner was far more palatable. A cutlet and tubers with a side of vegetables were far better than the first meal. Lexi looked around the table at the men comparing their specie’s reproductive structures, and she kept eating until her plate was clean. She really had nothing to add to this conversation.

She sat back and Strike nodded to her. “May I speak with you a moment, Lexi?”

“Of course. Now?”

“Please. I believe that the bots made dessert, and they aren’t going to serve it until we return.” He rose to his feet, and she followed him into what appeared to be the command office.

“Have a seat.”

She sat, but she could feel the curiosity in the men they had left around the table. Winger was very interested in what was going on, but he remained back in the dining room.

“Lexi, are you aware that the Guardian project has selected you as a candidate for an active position?”

“I am.”

“What is your response to the selection?”

She looked at him, analyzing his serious expression and equally serious emotional state.

“I have considered it, but I have to ask one very serious question.”

“Ask it.”

“Can I pick my own code name?” She bit her lip and smiled.

He chuckled. “Yes, provided that it runs within the protocols and has not already been claimed by another Guardian on another world.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of that. “I would like to be called Jolt.”

Strike nodded. “Let me check.”

He used his system and did a search. “It looks like Jolt is clear, but you are going to need armour before you can take on full activity.”

“Where do I get that?”

“We provide it. I will file a request for a specialist to come in and set you up with a suit or three.”

“A Genaran, correct?” She watched his eyes widen in shock.

“You really do have access to all sorts of information.”

“Yes.” She extended her hand to him, and he placed his skin along hers. She sent an electric pulse into him, building slowly until he jerked away.

“I managed to get control over it while you were gone. I can ramp it up slowly or go straight for a sudden jolt that will snap an attacker back under the force of their own muscle spasms.”

He rubbed his hands together, and a smile spread across his features. A genuine grin. “Did you use this on Winger?”

“Only when his hands went somewhere with a little too much determination. I am looking forward to future experimentation.”

“Please, don’t tell Theory. His is a fairly prudish society. We have been working on him, but it is a slow process.”

“Understood. Now, I believe that dessert is waiting?”

“It is. Thank you and welcome to the team, Jolt.”

“Don’t make the announcement until I have my uniform. I need to be properly attired.” She got to her feet.

“I will make the announcement after you have been properly outfitted and not before, but you are officially on the books as of now.”

“Will Theory tell the others?”

“No, he doesn’t have the clearance.” Strike waved her worry away.

She smiled but was a little edgy. If Theory didn’t have the clearance to access her records, then who had done it? The marks of access in the data stream were quite clear. Someone had accessed her files while the Guardians were out, and it wasn’t Lexi or the Imperial Consort.

Lexi returned with Strike and gave Winger a wink. “He told me to hold it down next time, but I asked him how that was going to work.”

Winger laughed, and Strike sighed and put his forehead in his hands.

The bots trundled up and slipped a dessert onto their plates with small chirps.

She ate the fruited dessert slowly, her concerns still up and around. The moment that dinner was over, they all trooped over to the casual area and watched the Whiccin news.

Lexi curled up next to Winger, and even Theory gave them an indulgent smile. Apparently, affection was treasured as long as she kept her hands out of Winger’s pants in public.

Lexi swayed slightly. Someone was carrying her. “Where are we going?”

“You are staying in my room tonight, Lexi.” Winger whispered it against her temple.

“Okay.” She turned against him and settled in with absolute trust.

It was still dark when Myrik jumped out of bed and started putting on his uniform. “Got an assignment?”

“Yes. It is urgent, so we are on our way. Put in your earpiece.” He leaned down and kissed her quickly.

She reached for him, but he was out the door, the engines of the skimmer were whirring. “Damn.”

Grimacing, she reached for the earpiece and had just settled it when a bot climbed up on the bed and chirped at her. “What do you want? Is Timmy in the well?”

It lunged at her swiftly, and she felt a sting on her skin. She punched it, but it had already delivered its payload. The room spun.

Lexi got to her feet and tried to use her enhanced speed. It only made her collapse at an accelerated rate.

The bot scuttled up and began to chirp rhythmically. The little bugger was sending out a signal.

She mumbled. “Well, that answers that question.”

Her world went dark.

Fires were set all over the capitol. Winger flew folk off rooftops and down to safe zones, but there was the feeling that this was deliberately done.

“Gentlemen, we have a problem beyond the fires.” Theory’s voice came through their installed coms.

Winger was heading up for the next two stranded victims. “What is it, Theory?”

“Winger, did Lexi put her earpiece in?”

“I told her to before I left. She looked awake enough to do it.”

“She isn’t answering. I haven’t known her as intimately as you have, but I don’t think she is likely to ignore her duty.”

Winger tensed. He wanted to turn and head back to the base immediately, but there were still dozens in danger while Strike and Pulse helped the workers put out the fires. Patches was working on the burn victims, and so the entire Guardian base was trapped while Winger’s mate was at risk.

He concentrated. “Theory, can you get a hold of the Whiccin spaceport and see if anyone with a Drafu signature has come down since we rescued Negotiator Under?”

“Working on it.” There was a pause. “Two ships arrived four days after we returned, both with Drafu signatures.”

Strike’s voice came through. “Have them locked down. I don’t care what excuses they use. Those ships cannot leave.”

“On it.” Theory went silent. “They have already requested launch clearance.”

Winger grimly grabbed the fire’s victims and flew them down to the medical tent.

Strike met him. “Come on, Winger. I have heard tell of a fire near the spaceport. We need to check it out.”

Winger’s grim nod was all he could manage.

Strike spoke to Theory. “Get me a location and physical description of those ships.”

“Yes, Strike. On the way.”

Winger followed Strike’s directions and got him as high as he was able. He held his commander in the air as the description of the Drafu ships came through the com.

“Thank you, Theory. Prepare to answer emergency calls.”

“Yes, Strike. Um, why?”

“There are about to be some explosions at the space port.”

It was all the warning Winger got as lightning seared down and struck the shapes of the ships in line for takeoff. Wave after wave of energy ran through the ships, turning off the lights and rupturing atmospheric engines. They were well and truly stuck.

“Back to the fires, Winger. These folk will keep, and I trust your mate to keep herself alive.”

Winger looked longingly at the ships but returned to the fires. He set Strike down and returned to ferrying the panicked down to safety. The sooner they were safe, the sooner he could rip those ships apart until he found Lexi.

Someone had taken his mate, and he was going to get her back.

* * * *

Lexi didn’t groan; she used her new empathy to identify the nearest living beings to her. The anger, fear and confusion was close.

She tried to shift, but her body was confined in a box. There was an oxygen mask on her face, and she was right and truly screwed. Her new skills wouldn’t get her out of this unless she managed to gain mastery over momentum.

Lexi lifted her foot to the top of the box. It was about four inches. Even kicking upward wouldn’t get her out.

It was horrible, girly and a desperate move, but she started screaming and pounding the box with her fists.

A mind came toward hers, and it was angry. He flipped open the lid of her prison, and she reached out, jolting him hard enough to send him backward a few feet.

It was a Drafu, all right. Scaly ash-green skin, mean black eyes and useless bat-like wings that sprouted from his back.