No Such Thing (24 page)

He led her to a small office cluttered with electronics and mechanical devices, so very much his domain that she smiled. He settled behind a plain,
serviceable desk and made an abrupt gesture at a chair without looking at her. "Have a seat."

Ryelle moved forward, wondering when he’d lost that honeyed cadence to his voice. She missed it keenly. It was a central feature in many of her
hottest dreams about him. She was about to sit when he hissed in a breath and jerked to his feet—she’d let her telenetic guard relax again.
Jumping back with a curse, she met his hot blue gaze and furious expression with a wince of embarrassment while she reeled in her talent again.

"Whoops," she croaked with a nervous chuckle as she backed toward the door. "Maybe we ought to, ah…do this over a viewer. Less
temptation. I’ll just find my rooms and get back to you as soon as I can." She slipped out of the office and hurried down the corridor with a
burning face. Temptation was right. Any more time in that man’s company and she’d likely end up in a gibbering puddle at his feet.

A quick stop at a station terminal provided her with the location of her rooms and she found her way there, not seeing a soul on the way. Her rooms were
unadorned but surprisingly large for the size of the station. She suspected they were used when the company heads paid a visit. On her way to the com unit,
she noticed that her bags were stacked next to the door. Quick work—she was impressed.

Standing in front of the com, she waved a hand at the holo-unit and braced herself. This wasn’t going to be pretty. Declan’s grim face
appeared, his anger banked to a slow simmer in his brilliant, indigo-shot eyes. She felt a quiver weaken her muscles while her heart jumped around in her
chest and almost rolled her eyes at her body’s inappropriate response. Lust and besotted happiness in the face of fury just wasn’t logical.

"So now that we’re at a safe distance," she said in a droll tone, "how ‘bout we talk about why I’m here? Before we get
into the specifics, though, we need to establish some way to keep in contact without you being in the line of fire. Something a little more private
than…" She gestured at the holo-viewer and could see by the tightening of his features that he understood. She was pretty sure he didn’t
want everyone on the station knowing what she could do to him.

"I’ll set up a communicator link and send it over to you," he said in a flat voice. "In the mean time, we need to go over the
situation. Another supply ship is due to arrive tomorrow."

"I read the detail in your request. How long have the attacks been going on?"

"About a month. There are always three attackers, midsized screamer-type ships, from the asteroid field. The miners haven’t seen them, my
security can’t follow because they’re too fast, and we can’t figure out where they’re coming from. Nothing’s taken.
There’ve been some injuries, but no deaths. I send out a salvage to collect the goods and crew, tow the wreckage in for repairs. Same thing happens
next go around."

His eyes had dropped from hers during his recital, his shoulders tense and thumbs tapping against one another in an aggravated rhythm. She could see that
it frustrated him not to be able to fix the problem. Annoyed him to ask for help. He’d gotten used to having things his way, to being able to
surmount any obstacle. She admired him for that but hoped it wouldn’t interfere with what she had to do.

"Any recognizable pattern to their flight? Any routine direction they take?"

"Just from the asteroid field, but they never exit or enter from the same place twice. Flight pattern is erratic. Not Fleet military piloting, but
there’s still a cohesion there. They know what they’re doing. They’ve planned it, for whatever reason. Execute it without a flaw."

"Hmm. I’d like to take a look at the asteroid field."

"Two decks up you’ll find main operations. I can send somebody for you—"

"I’m sure I can find it."

"The communicator will be waiting for you."

His face disappeared and she sighed. "I missed you, too, Declan," she whispered with a sour grimace. It was sick how much she had missed him
and how delirious she felt just being in close proximity to him. Never mind his peculiar hostility. Just knowing she’d hear his voice again made her
steps light as she left her new rooms and headed for main operations. Sick.

The wormhole station’s main operations deck was what she’d expected—lots of shiny tech and incomprehensible holographic
representations—but the atmosphere took her by surprise, considering her reception from the boss. The people in the sunken holo-suite as well as
those in the rings above all had the relaxed air of a group comfortable with each other and their surroundings. One woman was so comfortable that
she’d dressed in sleep attire with slippers on her feet, though Ryelle couldn’t tell if she was sleeping with the VR goggles over her eyes. Two
young men were tossing a ball through a holo-display while having a heated discussion in some tech language that baffled her. About twenty people in all
populated the operations deck and none of them looked disgruntled to be there. Nerd paradise.

Ryelle paused at the entrance with a smile pulling at her lips, wondering who to approach in this sea of tech tranquility.

"Oh, wow," a voice effused to her left and she glanced over to see a man about her age staring at her with round eyes and loose jaw, his pale
hair flying wild around his head. "You’re the Mirabella Angel, aren’t you? Holy sheep shit, what are you doing here?"

She raised her eyebrows, feeling the smile grow on her face, but before she could respond, he slapped himself on the forehead and grimaced theatrically.

"Jackass! Sorry, Telenetic Soliere. MC didn’t tell us the Institute was sending you. Woulda rolled out a little more red carpet." He gave
her a lopsided grin and held out his hand, then jerked it back with a horrified roll of his eyes. "Sorry! I’ve just never met a telenetic
before. And I can’t get over the first one I meet is the stuff of legend. I’m Pete, by the way. Pete Browning, the MC’s go-to guy.
Speaking of…" He plucked something from the pocket of his rumpled shirt and held it out. "He said to get you this."

"Thank you, Pete," she said, taking the communicator. "Quite a place you’ve got here."

"Yeah, we’re real proud of it," he said, turning to look out over the deck with hands planted on lean hips and a fond smile on his face.
"Best run transfer point of the bunch, but that’s ‘cause MC’s here. Damned genius."

She smiled and put the communicator in her ear. "I’m on, genius."

There was a pause. Then Declan muttered, "You’ve met Pete," in her ear. She shivered in reaction, covering it by folding her arms over
her chest. Even without the honey, his voice was dangerous to her equilibrium.

"Pete’s bringing me up to speed," she said with a wink at the blushing man. "Perhaps I can steal him for a tour later."

"Be a pleasure," Pete choked out, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stared at her feet.

"For me as well," she said smoothly. "May I have a look at the asteroid field, please?"

Pete nodded and stepped to the rail, looking down into the holo-suite. "Hey, somebody juice up Big Daddy and get me visual on the
‘roids."

No one appeared to pay him the slightest attention, but a second later, a dense hologram filled the room from one side to the other, showing a view of
space so clear that it seemed she could step off the rail and float away.

"Very nice," she said, fighting the urge to take a step back.

"Pete, call up flight patterns for the attacks in order," Declan said, his voice ringing out through main operations as well as rumbling in her
ear. "Show Telenetic Soliere the data we’ve got on them so far, visuals and stats." As Pete did something to make strange looking ships
appear and run a series of lightning quick maneuvers, Declan continued, "You can see there’s no consistency in where they appear, though they
always come in threes. Our security’s tight, but they weren’t trained for this kind of thing."

Ryelle hardly heard his words, listening to his deep voice murmur in her ear as quivers of heat ran up her spine. What she wouldn’t give for this to
be real, for his lips to brush her ear as he whispered erotic things to her.

"Mem?" Pete interrupted her lustful musings, his square face quizzical.

"Oh, sorry. I was just having a fantasy about your boss’ voice. Can you show me one of those ships again? Do we know their origin?"

Pete stared at her for a second, pale lashes framing wide hazel eyes, before he coughed into his fist and discreetly ignored her fantasy comment. Declan
was ominously silent. "Not a known make or model, Mem. Quick little beggers, though, like a screamer or a flare. And we’ve never been able to
trace where they go when they hit the field."

"If I did a scan of that field, which way would I aim from this deck?"

Pete pointed at an oblique angle to her left.

"Thank you. Could we have a moment, please?"

He blinked at her then seemed to understand she was including Declan in her plural. "Sure," he said and scampered down a short ramp to one of
the rings, keeping a furtive watch on her from a work station.

"Declan, where is your office from here? I’d like to do a scan, but I want to avoid any further…issues."

"Behind you. You’re clear to scan."

"Thank you," she murmured with a secret smile as his voice teased her once again. She was going to
love
having this communicator.

Without changing her position, she reached out with her talent, past the station and intervening space to quest through the asteroids with careful
thoroughness. She felt the ‘roid miners, contemplated the various lucrative materials composing the asteroids, and assumed they’d be at work
for many years to come.

"Nice rich field," she commented.

"Plenty of work for them and us," Declan responded, referring to their transfer of the extracted ‘roid materials through the wormhole to
various destinations.

She made a noncommittal sound and continued her search. Nothing but rock for light years, it seemed, but she didn’t stop scanning. And
then—"Ah."

"Found something?" he asked with sharp interest.

"Your ships and more besides. There’s quite a large—" She froze, shock sending a film of ice over her skin. "I’m coming
to your office," she snapped and spun on her heel, stepping quickly out of main operations.

"What did you find?"

"Be there in a minute," she answered, moving at a near run through the narrow corridors. Her mind whirled in stunned amazement. After all these
years, why now? Why here?

"Tell me now," he demanded.

"Something you should know about me, Master Chief. I don’t take well to orders these days. I’m almost there—just hold your
water."

"Damn it, woman—" he started, but she dashed into his office at that moment, nearly crashing into him as he strode toward the door.

They both backed away in a hurry. Ryelle didn’t know if he’d gotten a dose of her talent, but at that moment she didn’t care.

"Declan, they’re GenTec."

"What?"

"Not just three ships, but a whole host of them. We have to contact the Fleet."

He stepped toward her, aggression in every line of his body as he snarled, "What the sark are GenTecs doing—?"

"How the hell should I know? I’m not a bloody mind reader!" she yelled back at him, running a shaking hand through her hair.
GenTecs.
She hadn’t thought they’d ever see them again. Mirabella had been a crippling blow to their plans, to their very society. It
hadn’t been a full genocide, but she’d taken out most of their fighting forces. If they had a base of operations, it was so remote and well
hidden that the Fleet had never found it. Ryelle assumed they would give up their idea of ancestral domination. Yet here they were again.

"If they’re here," she said with a sick roll of her stomach, "you can bet they’re in other places as well. The Fleet needs to
be warned."

"Can you hold off the ones here?"

Ryelle put her hands on hips and gave him a flat stare.

"Right, dumb-ass question," he muttered, turning back to his desk. He made quick work out of sending a message back to civilization.
"We’re on a relay out here. Can’t contact directly. That’ll get through soon, though." Facing her, he leaned on the edge of
his desk and folded his arms with a grim expression. "They’re attacking my supply. Why?"

"Attention," she answered immediately, shifting with restless tension as the urge to pace came over her. She’d learned the habit from Sam
and hadn’t been able to kick it over the years. But this office was too small and cluttered to pace. "But not the Fleet’s. This
isn’t a big show of force." She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think it through without memories of horror getting in the way.
"Minor skirmishes, designed to attract attention, but not too much. They want a telenetic here."

"Why?" he asked again, deep voice sharper.

She shrugged, dropping her hand and rolling her head to release tension in her neck. "They were pretty desperate to get their claws on me last time
we met. Maybe they’re looking for a source of genetic material."

"They want their own telenetics?"

"Makes sense. The Fleet wiped their ass with telenetics during the war, not even counting what I did to them at Mirabella. It’s a weakness and
they can’t abide weakness. It makes them—defective." She shuddered, remembering the GenTec she’d spoken to personally and his
hissing voice saying that word.
Defective.

"But they weren’t expecting you," Declan said, studying her with an unreadable expression.

"Nope, pretty sure I wasn’t part of the plan." She rubbed the back of her neck, shifting to take a short step to one side, then back,
grimacing with resignation at the no-pace zone. "There is no room to move in this office," she chastised him with a severe look, before
returning to the original subject. "I’m sure they were expecting a lower ranking telenetic just like you were."

"This office suits me just fine," he countered with cool challenge. "And why
did
we rate the most powerful telenetic in the
Institute?"