Authors: Cathryn Cade

Dark Runner: LodeStar 3.5 (26 page)

He’d been here all morning, making his way through the various reports awaiting him. None of which made any sense.

He hadn’t slept well, but this inability to focus was bizarre. Wait. Perhaps that was it–he’d ingested some sort of sleep gesic that refused to let go of him. Yes, that must be it.

It would explain why he’d awakened that morning from a nightmare, sweating hard as if he’d been working out and staggered into his showerdry in a fugue state which still clung to him, its remnants swirling in the back of his mind like fuzzy black tentacles.

His Pangaean houseman had startled him by appearing silently at his elbow the moment he left his bedroom, concern clear in his pale green features and the weave of his cornsilk hair about his skinny throat. Stark had followed the man to breakfast in solitary state at an elegant dining table. He’d eaten what was put before him with a lack of interest or connection that extended to the view outside the floor to ceiling windows of the house.

A pristine countryside, rolling away from the green lawns toward a blue sea, and a town on the plain below. As soon as the houseman had left the dining room, Logan had keyed into his comlink and scrolled thru the newsfeed on the holovid he brought up.

Frontiera City, Frontiera read the signature in one corner.

Of course. He was on a new planet, on business. That’s why the view was not the wet, foggy, soaring cityscape he’d somehow expected to see. He was fine, just in unfamiliar territory.

Now he rubbed his temple irritably, pushing at the headache that lurked there. Perhaps he’d forgotten to drink his morning coffee. No, his usual carafe of Pangaean dark sat on the cerametal tray hovering nearby, along with a nearly empty pitcher of creamer and the remains of a whole grain scone, his midmorning snack.

Could a fugue state this strong stem from a sleep gesic, or was there something more going on? He was fairly certain he’d had several drinks last night as well, in some bar along the beach, and then later at the unfamiliar house, alone. But not enough to still be under the influence, surely. Unless he’d then combined the alcohol with some other drug and set off a reaction in his system that still lingered.

Did he indulge in substances stronger than alcohol? Why couldn’t he even remember such a basic fact about himself? His hands shook and sweat sprang out on his upper lip as panic roiled harder in his chest, seeking to overpower him.

“Mr. Stark?” The attractive, middle-aged blonde woman in the door of his office was eyeing him with concern. She was as polished as the office, from her pale gray business suit to her subtle cosmetics.

She worked for him. Ver..Vler...no, Vlu, that was it.

Blinking back the darkness as the slithering tentacles in his mind reached, greedy to devour more of his consciousness, Stark rolled his neck, grasping at normality with strength of will.

“Yes, Vlu, come in,” he said.

She smiled and glided into the room to place a slim device before him on his desk, a series of documents waiting in the virtual file display. “Yes, sir. May I freshen your coffee, sir?”

“Thank you.” He stared at the virtual files, their titles gleaming at him–no, taunting him. What the hells was it he was supposed to do with them?

“So, just signatures?” he murmured as if thinking aloud.

“Yes, sir.” She set the carafe down and reached to flick her finger over the first title. “Ready for your print.”

Ah, an oval at the bottom of the first page, just the right shape and size for a fingerprint. That he knew. Relief washed over him, a wave so strong it nearly swamped him. He braced his left arm on the desk, holding himself steady as he pressed his right index finger to the spot.

His assistant flicked to the next page, and he repeated the motion. Twice more, and she straightened with a smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get these back to AquaTerraCon right away. How exciting.”

With a look at his expression, she flushed, backing away. “Sorry sir. It’s just that we’re all very excited about the promise of this project.”

“No,” he said. “I’m glad you’re interested. Er, what is it you like about the deal?”

She blinked. “The exploration, sir. With the new aqua-terra crawlers, we can learn so much about the planet–go places we couldn’t otherwise. I can’t wait to see all the creatures that live in the seas here.” She shivered, hunching her shoulders like an excited girl.

Logan nodded. “Of course. May it be everything you imagined.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m sure it will be.”

She took the device from his desk, and tipped her head to regard him with renewed concern. “Are you all right, Mr. Stark? You look...well, rather drawn.”

He realized he was rubbing his temple, behind which pain had begun to throb, harder this time. He lowered his hand. Never let them see any sign of weakness.

“I’m fine,” he said brusquely. “What’s next on my agenda?” There, that sounded all right, just a busy man checking with his assistant.

“Mr. Berenson is here to speak with you, if you have time.”

He nodded, holding his body straight to hide the cold sweat that sprang out in his armpits and down his spine. Berenson? Who the hells was that?

“Send him in.”

“Yes, sir.” She glided from the room.

Logan took another swig of coffee, burnt his mouth on the hot, powerful brew and swallowed as quickly as he could. “Fucking hells!”

Then he looked up as a huge man moved into the room, the door sliding shut soundlessly behind him. Logan relaxed a fraction. He knew that broad, stoic face, brown hair so short the color blended with his tanned skin, and keen hazel eyes. Knew the erect carriage of an ex-soldier, the centered stance of a fighter. Bronc Berenson, his...what? He frowned, scanning the man’s attire and stance.

He wore, not a business suit like Logan’s own, but olive khaki shirt and pants tucked into leather boots, with a vest that Logan knew instantly hid more than one weapon. But his body language said he was friendly, so Logan quelled his first instinct, which was to reach into the top drawer of his desk for one of the weapons he knew would be there. The man was in security of some kind, that was it.

“Bronc,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His hand lifted to massage his temple again, but he laid it back on the arm of his chair, gripping the soft leather.

The other man’s gaze sharpened, but he merely nodded before walking to one of the chairs placed at an angle before the desk. He turned it so it faced the desk and the office door equally and sat, hands on his thighs, feet planted.

“Well?” Logan said, playing for time. Let the other person lead with information.

“Sir. As you requested, kept an eye on Kai te Nawa last night. He did as I suspected he might, went out for a prowl of the area.” He smiled slightly. “He’s a wary one–caught me following him.”

‘Te Nawa’...the name vibrated deep inside Logan’s consciousness, like a small light flickering in the darkness. Kiri, that was it. Kiri te Nawa.

Kiri
. His mind locked on her name with a visceral certainty like his print sealing those business deals. She was
his.
So this Kai was his by association also, because he took care of his own.

“What happened?” he asked, fishing.

The man shrugged his massive shoulders. Great God, he was built like a cruiser, and not a sleek commuter but a blunt, Solar Wars surplus fighter, created for battle. Good man to have on his side.

“Nothing much. We talked, I introduced myself. Told him I’d be around, that he could trust me.” A faint color stained his harshly angled cheeks. “Don’t know that he does, but I’ll keep working on it. He’s as your brother said–half-feral. Traumatic stress, and a bad case. May be a long flight back to assimilation in society for him.”

Ah, the man was attracted to this Kai, whom Logan had asked him to watch over. This meant Berenson was either homo or bi-sexual. Neither of which Logan cared about in the least, except that he always knew everything possible about the people with whom he dealt. Information was power, and he dealt in power. He held this knowledge close with satisfaction. Yes, he might have the hangover to end all hangovers, but he knew himself. Who he was, and what he could do.

“Well, keep it up,” he said. “Anything else? Cup of coffee?”

This time the hazel eyes sharpened like blades, and the other man studied him with an intensity that raised the hair on the back of Logan’s neck.

“I don’t drink it, sir,” Berenson said, in a tone that meant Stark already knew this. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Sir…are you all right? What the hells is going on?”

... Coming in Fall 2014

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Dark Runner.

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Sci fi futuristic romance