No Such Thing (40 page)

"That’s my point—I don’t want to try. I want them to be an extension of you and your culture. I want them to be your hand, reaching
into the heart of our society in an act of cooperation. Think of it—the Institute has enormous influence on all aspects of our civilization.
Telenetics wield great power in our society. You know this to be true or you wouldn’t have created them."

"What trickery is this? Or have you become defective?"

"You won’t be the last person to accuse me of going crazy," Ryelle said with a fleeting smirk. "But I think the insanity between
our people has gone on long enough, don’t you? I performed half a genocide on your people at Mirabella. That nearly cost me my mind. How many times
do you propose we do that? I won’t live forever, but I sure as hell don’t want to be killing you people off for the next sixty years or so.
Given the choice between endless war and genocide, which would you decide?"

"You threaten extinction?" the thing asked in a tone that suggested endless depths of fury.

She sighed, clasping her hands together as if grasping for escaping patience. "Your ancestors were brilliant people. I assume intelligence still runs
high in your genetic lines. Please listen and think about what I say. We tried war. That obviously failed. Let’s try diplomacy this time."

"Your citizens will continue to refuse The Change."

"Of course they will. Why would you even require it?"

It jerked as if to reject her question. "You are inferior. You are weak in mind and body. You should not refuse evolution and enhancement."

"I’m so weak in mind and body that I wiped out half your race. Bad news, Prime. I’ve gotten even stronger since then. Your telenetics
look much like us. Do you consider
them
defective?"

"Looks do not matter. It is strength that matters. It is survival that matters. I am able to walk on planets that have acid in the air and gravity
that would crush you."

"And I can take that planet and turn it into space dust in a heartbeat." She paused to let that sink in, her lips in a grim line. Declan stared
at her, aghast. She wasn’t kidding or exaggerating. She really had grown stronger. "Prime, consider this. You have created a whole host of
amazingly adaptable people, but I doubt all of them have the same talents. What one individual can survive might kill another and vice versa. You created
strong telenetics who wouldn’t be able to walk on that planet you described. Do you consider them defective? Or…are they just weapons to you?
Useful tools to wield in this war of yours?"

The creature didn’t answer, its form motionless. Ryelle unclasped her hands and folded her arms over her chest, expression cool. She also said
nothing, staring at the GenTec. Waiting.

"They had to use earlier DNA to make us," said a voice behind them.

Declan twitched, turning to see Daniel a few paces away, his thin face grim, odd black eyes fixed on the creature on the com. Ryelle turned as well, but
she didn’t look surprised. Declan wondered if she’d known he was there, if she’d asked her questions
because
he was there.

"There is no genetic marker for telekinesis in the current genome." The boy said the words as if they were memorized, with an edge of
bitterness to his tone. "They chose the DNA of one of our founding ancestors, honored, respected, but still mostly human. Mostly…defective.
They enhanced us as much as they could without destroying that marker. Our skin, our eyes—we can stand lots of radiation." Daniel shrugged, a
quick, sharp movement of his narrow shoulders. "Didn’t make much difference. Whatever we did, however hard we tried, we weren’t what they
wanted us to be. Not strong enough. Not good enough. Too…defective."

His midnight eyes glistened as if with tears, but his chin remained raised, thin body rigid, eyes steady on the GenTec.

"You are not defective," the scaled creature rumbled.

"Prove it," Daniel said, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Let us be what she wants us to be. Let us go to this Institute, learn
and train to be better. We can show them what it means to be GenTec."

Ryelle’s eyes swam with tears, but her smile was warm as she watched the boy. "You would make a magnificent ambassador," she murmured,
before turning back to the com. "I’m not suggesting that we steal them away from you forever. In fact, I think it’s important for them to
have regular contact. They can return to you as often as you or they feel necessary, reconnect, exchange information, ideas. In short, provide them with
the security and comfort of their people while allowing you a direct line into the center of our society."

She didn’t say it, but Declan could see it and nearly choked on his protest. He could see the implication she was trying to make. The bribe.
You will have influence. You will have power. You can come home.

Ryelle turned her head and met his gaze, her dark, unfathomable eyes steady. She mouthed one word and sent a shudder down his spine.
Genocide.
It
was either embrace the enemy or destroy them utterly. Before he’d met the children, Declan would have had no difficulty with that choice. His only
reservation would have been how Ryelle would handle such a gruesome assignment. But the children reminded him that the GenTec had once been human. Their
culture was much different—did test tube kids have mothers and fathers?—but they still had innocents among them.

"I will consider your proposal," the Prime said in a voice as slow and rough as a cooling lava flow. "I must speak with our governing
bodies. You make—an interesting argument."

"I’ll let you go back to your people. Just your ship. The rest of your armada stays here. Return when you’ve made a decision. Fleet will
be here by then, so don’t come in shooting unless you want to die early."

The GenTec slowly inclined its massive, ungainly head, before the viewer went dark.

Ryelle turned to Daniel with a smile. "Thank you. I think you may have saved us all."

Daniel’s brow furrowed, his thin body tensing. "You expect there to be peace between our people? After all that’s happened? That’s
stupid! That’s—that’s—"

Ryelle moved swiftly toward him, pausing a moment before she knelt at his feet. The boy blinked, hands loosening as he stared at her. Declan eased closer,
not because he was afraid for her exactly, but because he desperately wanted to see her face, wanted to be near her.

"Daniel, there is no such thing as peace, but what we make for ourselves. The universe is chaos and change. It will always be that way. Once we
accept that and move with it, we can find what we need to be happy, to love and be loved, to create peace within ourselves. I don’t expect either
side of this war to cease hostilities just like that. It’s going to be a rough road for all of us. But I’m hoping that if we can learn to
understand each other, than tolerance won’t be too far behind. Maybe even coexistence…someday. A few generations from now," she added
with a wry smile.

Declan wanted to kiss her very, very badly.

Daniel, on the other hand, gave her a quizzical look then yawned so hugely that his jaw popped. "You’re very strange," the boy mumbled.

"Thank you. I don’t like to conform. Would you be more comfortable if we put two beds together?"

Daniel nodded and trudged back toward the sleeping area.

Ryelle watched him with a fond smile for a moment, before she rose to her feet and glanced at Declan. "Well, that could have gone worse," she
commented in a low voice.

A sound drew Declan’s attention and he looked over to see an empty bed floating to the one Rose and Jake occupied. When it settled next to them,
Daniel climbed on and collapsed with the loose-limbed abandonment of youth. Declan was sure he’d fallen instantly asleep, but just as he was about to
turn away, he saw the kid reach out with slow stealth to rest his fingertips against Rose’s back. The sight sent a horrible squeezing sensation
through his chest.

Ryelle’s sigh pulled his gaze back to her. She was watching the children and the beauty of her sad, tender smile shook him to his core. He could do
nothing else but pull her into his arms. The silky, tormenting brush of her power made him wince and grit his teeth, but he couldn’t let go this
time.

"What are you working on?" he husked, closing his eyes against the tempting feel of her soft body snuggling into his.

She slipped her arms around his waist, rubbing her cheek against his chest with a low murmur of pleasure. "I’m helping the GenTec Prime get his
ship underway and keeping an eye on the rest of them to make sure they stay put. Plus I’m keeping a finger on those explosives, in case security has
an accident."

"Busy."

"It’s been one of those days. Do you feel too much of it?" she asked, hands splaying across his back and tightening her hold on him.

He made a rumbling noise in his throat, rubbing his chin across the silk of her hair. "Not enough, actually. I need you to touch me until I
can’t stand up anymore. Feel like retiring early, Telenetic Soliere?"

She tipped her head back, meeting his gaze with half-lidded, smoking eyes. "Mmm, you don’t know how tempting that is." Then she sighed
and shifted away. "But I can’t."

"Why not?" he asked a little sharper than he’d intended. Her withdrawal sent little pointed spears of anxiety through him. Was she
breaking it off already? That didn’t seem to fit with how she responded to him, but that didn’t stop the painful prick of doubt.

"I need to stay with the children. And while I’d love to have sex with you pretty much anywhere, I will draw the line at doing it in front of
kids."

But they’re sleeping,
his stupid libido groaned, but he ignored it in favor of a more rational response. "Why stay?"

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "You were the one who said, ‘Watch them, Ryelle!’"

"You and I both know you can do that from anywhere. You’re watching the GenTec right now."

"My beautiful Declan," she said with a sultry smile, hands coming around to slide up his chest and burrow into his hair. "Just how do you
expect me to watch anything while writhing and screaming in ecstasy?"

"Huh. So you do have limits." Catching her hips, he eased her into tight contact with him and bent his head to nip her bottom lip.

Her fingers tensed in his hair. "Apparently. When you touch me, I can’t concentrate on anything but you."

"I’m touching you now," he growled against her mouth.

"And I’m fast losing concentration." She pulled back with a little moan of protest and a heavy sigh, twisting out of his hold.
"Duty first, Master Chief. Maybe when I get them back to the Institute, a whole bunch of someones can spell me and—" She froze then met
his eyes with a tormented look that ate at his insides.

"You’re leaving," he said in a flat voice.

She fisted her hands in his shirt, eyes turning fierce and pained. "I’m not leaving
you.
But I can’t leave them alone right now.
I have to be the one to take them, to get them to the Institute. Once they’re there, maybe they’ll adjust so well they won’t need me all
the time. Then I’ll be back." She dropped her forehead to his chest with a groan, her slender form tense under his hands. "This is going
to kill me."

He said nothing. There was nothing in his mind but bewildered pain.

"Declan," she said without lifting her head from his chest, "I’m
not
leaving. I love you."

He shook his head against the agony blooming inside him. Then he cupped the back of her neck, slipping a thumb under her jaw to tilt her face up. Lowering
his head, he molded his lips to hers, slow and sweet, then slow and seductive, tangling his tongue with hers for a long, steamy moment. Raising his head,
he breathed, "Goodnight, sweetheart," against her lips and let her go.

"G-goodnight," she responded faintly, her fingers slowly unclenching and falling away from him. Her eyes were luminous and endless and he
wanted very much to fall in and never surface.

Instead, he brushed his knuckles against her cheek in a swift caress and turned on his heel, heading for the door before he lost the strength to walk
through it. He was striding down the corridor, frantically searching for something to alleviate the impossible ache in his chest, when her voice sounded in
his ear.

"All right, what the hell was that?"

It took him a second to answer. He’d forgotten about the communicator. "What the hell was what?" he responded with what he thought was
admirable calm.

"That wasn’t a goodnight kiss. That was a
goodbye
kiss. Hot enough to melt my brain for a bit, but I’m all recovered now. I can
tell the difference, Declan McCrae, and you’d better have a damned good explanation for it."

She sounded supremely pissed off and for some reason that helped ease the ache in his chest. He almost wanted to smile.

"Sure that was a goodnight kiss. You can tell, because I said goodnight right after."

"Bullshit!" she hissed in his ear. "You’re running away again, you coward! Things get a little complicated and you bolt."

He stopped dead in his tracks, the urge to smile crushed under a wave of anger. "I’m not running anywhere. I’m just not staying with you
because I want you so bad my balls hurt and I can’t keep my hands to myself," he snarled. "If complications scared me, I would never have
gone near you in the first place!"

The silence lasted so long he started regretting his words. Then she said, "Good point," in a grudging tone. "Sorry. The old memories
still hurt. And I still don’t know quite where I stand with you."

The words came rolling up his throat, but he swallowed them back down in a hurry. Now was not the time or place. Besides, she was returning to the
Institute soon. Old memories did still hurt and the habit of protecting his heart was hard to kick. He rubbed the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. He
wanted to hold her in his arms, reassure them both, but knew that wasn’t going to happen. There was an alternative, though. He felt a surge of
fondness for technology. "How ‘bout you come to bed with me?"