Broken Vision (8 page)

"I think I have permanent dents in my face. What was that?" Brown-hair broke the shocked
silence. He fingered his cheek. Black-hair watched Maegan, a frown on his face.

"An honest woman with no secrets." Makiee, the project's lead engineer turned an accusing
face to Maegan. "Is it true?"

"Course it is," said Nimon. "Haven't you heard about the Mariltar brand? She's been
branded." Nimon pointed to Maegan's hand.

She wanted to hide it behind her back but forced herself to keep it in her lap. The sapphire
band sparkled brightly for all to see. It had been too much to hope that this was knowledge she
could keep to herself until she'd figured out a foolproof plan to make the partnership go away.

From the group's reaction, Coryon hadn't said a word, although Alerik said he'd told her. If
Coryon really did know, she hadn't fed the gossip machine. As an assistant, she was earning her
merits.

"Did a batriel really attack you?" Shal-el, the youngest of the group sat forward eagerly.
"Did it drip ghastly green goo from its mouth? Did it stink? Do you have a scar?"

"Wait your turn." Makiee's silver eyes, in the low lumens, glowed eerily and betrayed his
Bogasill heritage. He shoved his colleague. "I want to know why she went and bonded with
Governor Mariltar and what this means for Janas Corporation."

"Why would it have any affect on Janas... Oh!"

Seven sets of eyes containing various degrees of speculation, concern and interest, and two
containing some bemusement, studied Maegan.

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She found she couldn't close her mouth again. If
there was ever a ninth dimension, this was it. Her brain functioned perfectly normally, but nothing
it told the rest of her body to do worked. She couldn't even budge a finger and now she looked like
an idiot with her mouth hanging open.

"What's wrong with her?" Nimon demanded.

"What's she been drinking?" Black-hair said.

He picked up Maegan's hand. She saw him do it, but she couldn't feel it.

"Grogon limale, same as everyone else."

"Not much alcohol in that." Black-hair was peering into her eyes. He frowned. "Can't take
much."

"Ah..." Behind him Shal-el exchanged a guilty look with Bortock.

The two Merlons, who could almost have been twins, were brilliant together with code
creation but, barely out of adolescence, they were also mischievous troublemakers. Maegan had
had them in her office more than once to deliver disciplinary edicts, mostly consisting of
community service which, to give them credit, they performed with as much enthusiasm as they
had the transgression. "We reprogrammed the bar caddy when we came in."

"We added a very small shot of Merlon mitte to the recipe," said Bortock. "Very small."
He pinched his fingers together.

That was another thing about the two. When caught, they always were quick to
confess.

"Merlon mitte," said Black-hair, who was doing something with her wrist, "is the most
potent drink in the galaxy. Even in minute quantities. We've got to get her to medical attention
now."

"You fools! No wonder my head is spinning. And look at poor Maegan."

Nimon, who came from a long line of Soron warrior priestesses, took a swing at Shal-el. If
she'd connected directly, she could have done some serious damage, but Shal-el saw it coming and
ducked. The blow caught Black-hair in the side. He stumbled and fell into Bortock.

Maegan, her mouth hanging open, her arm dangling in the air where Black-hair had let go
of it, could do nothing but watch helplessly as Morgon's galactic-peace-through-a-united-goal
experiment dissolved into a mini galactic club brawl. The audience that quickly gathered around
them was only interested in placing bets and Gloriana was nowhere to be seen.

Brown-hair finally extricated Black-hair from underneath Nimon and they both grabbed
Maegan. As they bore her from the club, she caught sight of Gloriana forging her way toward the
disturbance. The look on her face comforted Maegan. At least she wasn't going to have to worry
about discipline. Gloriana would take care of it.

* * * *

She awoke in another strange room with no memory of what had transpired after they'd left
the club. She wriggled a toe, then a finger, an arm and a leg. Everything seemed to be working. She
felt good, much better than she had in a while.

The faint sweet tang of tiug leaf wisped across her nostrils. It was barely enough
warning.

"Maegan," said Alerik, in a soft rumble that raised tiny hairs all over her body, "you really
do need to stop getting into these...situations."

He strolled into her line of vision, a tall man and--oh, blazing starpits--wearing nothing but
loose pants draped low across his hips and a half smile on his lips. Her sense of well-being
vanished as her sweat glands went crazy and tension tightened every cell in her body.

She forced her mouth open. "Before you arrived, my life was perfectly normal."

He laughed and stopped beside her, too close. "Ah. You imply that I somehow had
something to do with the attack and the, ah, club scuffle."

She closed her eyes. All that bare, hard flesh was too much to take. "Of course not." She
couldn't help herself and cracked open one eye again. Maybe he wouldn't notice. "Well, actually,
the club fight was your fault." At least he'd been one of the sparks.

"Yes?" He sat down facing her on the raised sleeping platform. His hip brushed against
hers with only two thin layers of cloth between them, which made her realize that someone had
removed all her clothes again. She didn't even want to think about that.

The scent of tiug was stronger. His body heat licked her hip and reached out tentacles to
places deep in her body. She squeezed both eyes shut again.

"I had this fascinating vid conversation with the proprietress of the club, Mistress
Gloriana."

He picked up her hand and cradled it between his. The simmering heat in her body erupted
into a conflagration.

"Yes, Mistress Gloriana found it quite interesting that the staff of Janas Corporation was
unaware of their leader's change in marital status, and she was also quite indignant that the
Counselor of Pallas Four hadn't seen fit to announce her marriage partnership to the populace of
Pallas Four. Protocol and ceremony are very important to Mistress Gloriana, as they should be." He
chuckled and squeezed her hand. "She didn't place all the blame on you, you'll be happy to know. I
received a thorough scolding on that one as well. But she has taken it upon herself to disseminate
the news in an appropriate way."

Wonderful. Just what she didn't want. But the image of the club proprietress scolding
Alerik Mariltar was intriguing. She chose to focus on that in a desperate attempt to ignore his
thumb, which was stroking the top of her hand. It didn't work.

His thumb stroked. Her hand was limp with pleasure. The rest of her body, traitor that it
was, strained with yearning for the same treatment. Alerik was silent.

The silence stretched until she couldn't bear it anymore and cracked open an eye again. His
head was bent a little, his expression thoughtful, his gaze focused on their joined hands.

He was quite beautiful, she realized, with a little jolt. His dark hair, burnished with a tinge
of deep red, was trimmed closely to shape of his skull. His facial features were strong but evenly
proportioned. He had the classical Mariltar profile--straight nose, square chin, full lips. In this
contemplative mood he'd fallen into, his chin dimples were nowhere in evidence.

She was seized by an urge to reach out and run her hand over the smooth, rounded
contours of his arms and chest. He had minimal visible body hair. Silk wisps spread across his
chest and framed the small hard nubs of his nipples. The hair darkened and thickened where it grew
in a narrow line down beneath the waist of his pants.

Her gaze drifted back up over the flat, hard planes of his stomach and the muscles of his
chest. It was like he was built with body armor. There was no softness to him at all. Her hand not
held captive between his itched again to test him, to see if he was as hard, yet silk-smooth as he
appeared.

She looked up. Hated heat flooded her face. He was watching her study him. His mouth
twitched. His dimples appeared.

"If you keep looking at me like that, Green Eyes, I'll have to do something about it."

She snatched her hand away. "Don't delude yourself. Where am I?"

"Governor's habitat on Pallas Five. We all decided you needed supervision."

"All? Who's all? Alerik Mariltar dictating his desires and expecting everyone else to go
along?"

This close to him, she saw with fascination a shadow of some emotion deepen the sapphire
of his eyes and temple mark, but his chin dimples remained firmly in place.

"Not at all. It was the consensus of Gloriana, the medtech here on Pallas Five, Corenna,
Drakal and myself."

"Huh. Well, with the exception possibly of Gloriana, I can't imagine why anyone's opinion
should possibly matter to me. I'd like to go home, please."

Alerik shook his head. "You are such a rebel. But this time you don't get a choice. Medtech
Sumnuer wants you on bed rest for a couple of days."

"I feel perfectly fine." She couldn't stay here for two cycles. She couldn't. She wasn't sure
how long she'd been here already and she had an imminent mission to undertake, the details of
which might already be lodged in her personal comm unit.

"That was the problem the last time." Alerik rose to his feet, yawned and stretched,
revealing tuffs of silky hair in his armpits. His pants slipped a little lower on his hips. He tugged at
them casually with one hand, but they settled back to the same position when he let go.

"You felt fine, didn't follow orders, drank alcohol and ended up with temporary paralysis.
Your body's very fragile right now. You need rest."

He strolled around the end of the sleeping platform. The lumens in the room dimmed as he
went. "I need rest. Too little sleep since I arrived."

Oh, that implication wasn't subtle at all. She was out of here as soon as he left and she
could find her clothes. He reached the end of the platform but, instead of heading for the exit to the
room, he turned and moved up the other side of the platform. The lumens extinguished completely
as he lifted the cover and climbed onto the bed.

As she lay stiff with horror on the large platform that could easily accommodate four
bodies his size, but seemed stiflingly small nonetheless, he murmured, "Let me save you some
trouble. This room is secured. If you try to leave, an alarm will sound."

* * * *

Two more bodies had been found on Pallas Seven, battered and bruised, and dumped in an
incinerator vat. They would have been vaporized without a trace, along with the rest of the garbage
and debris, if the Pallas Seven counselor hadn't ordered a surprise facility inspection. Cause of
death was not yet officially determined, but obvious nonetheless. No one had claimed the
bodies.

And, coincidentally, the counselor had narrowly avoided being the target of a poison dart
later that morning.

Alerik shoved his chair back from his console just as a chime sounded. "Enter."

Sharm, looking polished and smooth and playboy handsome, and not at all like the deadly
weapon he really was, strolled through the door of his office.

"Good day, Governor." He swaggered a bit as he crossed the ion floor. "How's the
miniature Alerik project coming?"

Alerik's thoughts immediately clamped onto how he had left Maegan that morning, fast
asleep in his bed. She was an untidy, restless sleeper. She'd been belly down, arms and legs flung
out in every direction, the thin cover stretched across her sweet little ass and one leg, leaving her
back bare. Blood surged to his groin.

"It's been initiated." Having her naked in his bed was certainly a start.

He eyed Sharm, who was prowling along the edge of his console. He was reporting in late
this morning, an almost unheard of event for him.

"A good night?"

Sharm flashed a lecherous grin. "An adventurous one with a bonus ending. The ladies of
The Alabaster Nightshade do have some extraordinary talents."

Alerik scowled. "Thought this was supposed to a fact-finding mission?"

"It was. That was the adventurous part. The bonus part was--"

"Spare me the details of your private activities. Anything useful?"

Sharm shook his head. "A dead end. If there's something there, the employees are either
outstanding liars or not in the game, but I don't think there is. The Alabaster Nightshade appears
perfectly legitimate. Only one small set back. Dono Kalister was not overseeing his domain last
night. Seemed unusual. His employees were surprised he wasn't there."

"Go back until he does show up. The source that pointed the finger seems trustworthy.
Two unidentified bodies were discovered in an incinerator vat this morning and there was another
attempt on the counselor's life."

"Blood of Cor!" Sharm stopped prowling and stuck his hands in the pockets of his
breeches. "And we thought this was going to be one of those quick clean-ups, then we'd be sitting
around growing soft, fat bellies for the remainder of your term. The reek of lawlessness is oozing
ever deeper into Grogon."

"How eloquent," Alerik said dryly. He rose to his feet. "But facts remain that it still seems
confined to Pallas Seven. Whatever Maegan is up to, it is something entirely unrelated."

He hoped. She couldn't possibly be caught up in what was clearly a flesh trade supply to
human death matches. But he was almost certain she had piloted an unauthorized flight and she was
involved in something. He had to figure out what and quickly.

"I'm going to take her back to Pallas Four and work from there for a while. Continue with
your investigation and keep me briefed."

"Yes, sir." Sharm snapped to attention, before relaxing with a grin. In private, they had
long since dispensed with formalities. "Will you need Corenna and Drakal?"