Ravyn's Flight (12 page)

Alex nodded. He knew. Ravyn, chatterbox that she was, had told him everything about it. “What is your reasoning then?”

Dr. Mitchell leaned forward. “We both know how that Spec Ops team went into the facility. Do you honestly think some out-of-his-head CAT member was able to ambush them?”

“No.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ravyn mentioned how much extra training you put her through before she joined the program.” The doctor laid a hand on his arm, offering sympathy and support. “If it was one of the team, she could have taken care of herself.”

“And that’s why you think it’s my favorite scenario.”

“Yes. Alex, you’re leading this mission, you need to be prepared.”

“What do you think I need to be prepared for?” He lowered his arm and the doctor withdrew her hand. Alex didn’t think he wanted to hear this.

“At first, I thought it might be a virus, something the team members had no immunity to. I discounted that. If that had been the case, your Team Two would have had enough time to send a message and warn others even if the CAT team didn’t.”

Alex was damn glad to hear she didn’t think it was a virus. Ravyn would have been as helpless as anyone else on J Nine if that was what had happened. “So if you don’t think it was a CAT team member gone mad or an illness, what does that leave?”

He watched the doctor take a deep breath. Whatever it was, she was reluctant to bring it up. Finally she asked, “What was a Spec Ops team doing on Jarved Nine?”

“No.” Alex stood, refusing to believe what her question implied.

“Have you heard of another training mission to a planet that hasn’t been colonized?” The doctor stood too and looked at him.

“Why would you think Team Two was sent there to eliminate a CAT team for heaven’s sake?” Alex kept his voice low. He didn’t want the others to hear this. A quick glance told him they remained occupied with their own discussion.

“The Old City. What if the team found something the Western Alliance doesn’t want anyone to know?”

That stopped Alex short. He knew the Alliance leaders weren’t above something like that. His stomach began to churn.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he insisted. “Why launch this rescue mission with Spec Ops personnel if that’s what happened?”

“You know as well as I do the freelance comm operators picked up the emergency beacon. Public pressure was beginning to build and would have gotten worse once the press started covering it,” the doctor said, her tone calm.

“No,” Alex said again. “I know one of the men on Team Two. He would never follow those orders.”

“It’s something you need to consider, Alex,” the doctor said quietly before walking away.

Alex left the lounge and went into his quarters. He sat heavily on his bunk and leaned forward until his hands dangled between his knees. He stared at the toes of his boots and thought about what Gwen Mitchell had said.

It was possible. But that wasn’t what had happened.

If it were any other Spec Ops team, he wouldn’t be this sure. There was no way Command could present it, no spin they could put on it, that Brody would buy. He was too smart to fall for a bunch of lies and too principled to carry out orders that went against his morals. Alex released a long breath and straightened.

It was a helluva thing when a person had to put his trust in the honor of a man he despised.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ravyn hated mud.

After two days of incessant showers, the sun had finally made an appearance. But it would take more than a few hours of sunshine to dry out the sodden earth, and now the humidity had reached nearly unbearable levels. Between sweat and rain, Ravyn had gotten used to damp clothes, but she couldn’t tolerate the dirt ground into the fabric.

Days of slogging through mud had left her pants coated below the knee. She’d wiped her filthy hands on her thighs, her butt, her shirt, everywhere, spreading the muck to new locations. Ravyn didn’t want to think about how many times her grimy hands had touched her face. Her hair felt plastered to her head. Strands escaped the braid and continually fell into her face. Every time she pushed them back, she cringed, knowing she deposited more dirt.

So far Damon had found them dry places to spend the night, but Ravyn hadn’t gotten much rest. Whenever she shut her eyes, all she saw was blood. The nightmares hit her relentlessly, but at least she hadn’t disturbed Damon again. He wasn’t the type of man who would fake sleep in the face of her anguish, even if he had become cold and abrupt.

Ravyn made a face at his back, but didn’t slow her steps. His remoteness added to her ill-humor. The only thing that had made this ordeal bearable had been talking with Damon. Now she didn’t even have that. He spoke only to issue orders.

They took frequent rests because of the draining humidity, but she really wanted a nice, hot bath. She focused on thoughts of a deep tub full of scented bubbles as she walked. At times she would imagine champagne and strawberries, but mostly she pictured soap and shampoo. She bit back a sigh of longing. Never again would she take being clean for granted.

The wind gusted, rousing Ravyn from her fantasies. She watched Damon duck under a low tree branch draped with thorned vines. The breeze came again even more strongly and one of the trailing vines whipped across his arm, just below the sleeve of his T-shirt. She winced as she watched a jagged barb rip at his skin. It didn’t cause so much as a hitch in his sure stride. Cautiously, she held the vine up and edged under it. Even with the mud covering him, she could see several drops of blood well before they crawled down his biceps. She’d asked yesterday why he’d tucked his long-sleeve shirt in the pack, but hadn’t received an answer.

At last, he glanced down at the cut, but there was no other reaction, not so much as a curse. Ravyn couldn’t see his face, but she guessed his expression remained stoic. This robot warrior persona drove her insane.

He was as covered in grime as she was. His camouflage fatigue pants appeared more brown from dried mud than any other color as did his once olive T-shirt. Yet the scrapes and dirt made him appear even more ruggedly handsome while Ravyn knew beyond doubt she looked pathetic.

It was so unfair.

The self-condemnation rose then, as it did anytime she felt sorry for herself. She knew she was lucky to be alive, lucky to be this miserable. It was just hard to remember that sometimes. Instead of soothing her surliness, the feelings of guilt added to it.

They started up a steep incline and Ravyn had to concentrate on keeping her balance. The mud here was thin and slippery, with no grass of any kind to hold the ground together. Her feet slid out from under her and she grabbed a bush to keep from falling. Cursing softly, she pushed herself upright. The swearing became more vehement when she realized she’d sustained several small, stinging cuts on her hands. Damon never even turned to see how she fared. She scowled at his back. Evidently, Captain Android couldn’t exhibit even token concern for the troops.

When she reached the top of the ridge, Ravyn paused to catch her breath. If anything, the descent appeared steeper than it had been going up. And it looked muddier. There must have been a landslide recently since there was a path down the middle of the hill where the otherwise heavy vegetation had been replaced by a sweep of sludge. Great. Damon hadn’t stopped, but she didn’t worry about it. Despite his demeanor, she felt confident he wouldn’t let her get too far behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Ravyn picked her way carefully down the hill. It was even tougher going than she’d thought. Despite her caution, she slid in several places before she could catch herself. Each time more wet earth sloshed onto her pants. She kept her legs slightly bent but her knees still took a beating.

The third time she slipped, she couldn’t regain her footing. With a plop, she landed on her butt and her weight and gravity had her sliding down the hill. The speed kept her on her back and she tried to use her legs to stop her rapid plunge.

It seemed to take forever before she lurched to a stop. Ravyn didn’t move as she took inventory. She was unhurt, she decided, but she could feel mud oozing on her backside from the top of her head to the heels of her feet It had even oozed under the protective vest she wore. She could feel it permeating her clothes, her panties. Something scratched her neck. She reached up and pulled out a twig. She probably had more foliage stuck in her hair. Gingerly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and saw Damon standing just below her.

He didn’t inquire if she was okay. If he had, she would have asked him to help her up. If he had laughed, she would have laughed with him. She may be humiliated, but she wasn’t blind to how funny she must look. But Damon did neither of those things. He just stood there, face impassive, and didn’t say a word. It was the last straw. She’d had all she could stand of the robot warrior act. Ravyn’s temper ignited.

Without giving it any thought, she picked up a handful of the mud that surrounded her and threw it at him. Her aim was true and she caught him in the center of his chest. His eyes narrowed, but there was no other reaction.

His lack of response fanned the flames of her anger.

She pelted him with another, bigger, mud ball. She’d knock the man-of-stone persona out of him no matter what it took!

This time he appeared slightly surprised as the wet earth plopped to the ground from his chest. He still didn’t look too terribly upset, but when she watched him shrug off the pack, Ravyn knew she’d succeeded in irking him. Scrambling hastily to her feet, she unzipped the vest and tossed it aside. He was bigger, stronger and better trained, but she welcomed the confrontation she knew was coming. She widened her stance, balancing her weight the way her brother had taught her.

As he took off his own vest, Ravyn flung another wad of mud at him. This time she hit his shoulder. When he turned, she knew from the look in his eyes that she’d managed to really piss him off. She smiled, baring her teeth in a feral grin.

Damon continually underestimated her, so she wasn’t the least bit surprised when he rushed her. She moved to the side at the last minute, easily evading his charge. His momentum carried him past her and Ravyn shifted until she faced him again. Just for the hell of it, she tossed her last handful of mud.

This time he sidestepped and her missile fell harmlessly to the ground. Obviously deciding her evasion of his frontal assault was a fluke, Damon tried again. He must have played football, she guessed. With his arms outstretched, he looked like he was trying to tackle her. Once more Ravyn easily dodged away. She thought it insulting to be so underrated even though it gave her a very slight advantage. At least momentarily.

She didn’t care that she needed all the help she could get. After nearly a week in her company, Damon should know she was more than just some helpless woman.

“Is this how you fought in the Oceanic War?” she jeered, hands on her hips. “It’s amazing you survived. But then maybe you didn’t have to fight anyone hand to hand.”

“Ravyn, don’t push me,” he warned.

Blithely, she ignored his menacing tone and crouched quickly to scoop up more mud. Almost not fast enough. He nearly reached her before she could straighten and jump out of harm’s way. Ravyn barely suppressed a shriek at her close call.

Warily, she and Damon circled each other. That wasn’t easy, not with the mud slick as grease beneath their feet. Options flashed through her mind. She tried to guess which moves Damon was likely to make and figure out her best way to counter each one. Alex hadn’t trained her to just react. He’d taught her to use her head, telling her it was her greatest asset.

Ravyn wasn’t foolish enough to think her strength was any match for his, no matter how hot her temper. Still, there were ways to win a battle other than an all-out attack. Right now, her best weapons were the mud in her hands, her agility and her ability to think under pressure. And she could taunt him until he became so mad, he forgot his training. That was unlikely, she admitted, but there was always a chance.

“Geez, Brody, how did you ever get into Spec Ops if you can’t even take down a woman?”

Gleefully, she watched him lunge at her and miss. It cheered her considerably to see him land face first in the mud. Just to add insult to injury, she caught him on the seat of his pants with two mud balls. She didn’t have time to rearm before Damon regained his feet.

Uh-oh.
She took an instinctive step back before stopping herself. The fireworks in his eyes contrasted sharply with the mud covering his features. He wasn’t going to take it easy on her any longer. As she watched, a mask came down over his face and she knew he’d gone into warrior mode. Ravyn didn’t waste any more breath on insults. It was just a matter of time until he bested her, but that didn’t mean she was going down without a fight.

It was almost a dance, as he took the offensive and she countered his tactics, dodging and ducking. Once he nearly had her, but she managed to slip away thanks to the slick coat of mud on her back. Ravyn didn’t dare take her eyes off him for a second, not even to scoop up more mud. Each time she escaped him, he came back with an even more difficult maneuver. He lunged less and used more of his strength against her moves. If she even blinked, she knew it would be over in short order.

“Not so arrogant now, are you sweet pea?” he gibed. The knowledge of impending victory glowed in his eyes; his smile was insolent. He didn’t seem to have any doubt she was on the ropes.

That rekindled her waning anger. Ravyn lifted her chin imperiously, but didn’t respond. Instead she focused her energy on keeping her footing. Their little two-step had churned up the ground, making it muddier and even more slippery. Damon was handling the slick conditions better than she was. Experience, she supposed.

And, in the end, that was what defeated her. Damon feinted, she reacted before he committed himself and found herself caught. Desperately, she twisted away and lost her footing, going down face first. She rolled over quickly, but Damon already stood over her, his triumphant expression insufferable. She fired off two quick shots of mud before he covered her, pinning her hands over her head.