Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest (24 page)

Angel folded her arms across her chest. “You never told me how you earned the credits to pay for renovating my ship.”

“Tessa shares her wealth.”

“So you were born with a giant trust fund?” Angel asked.

“Something like that,” Kirek admitted.

She’d never known anyone wealthy. She’d scratched and saved for every credit, and she couldn’t help thinking that Kirek’s personality was so set, so strong, that the amount in his bank account had little to do with who he was.

“I’ve also hired a transport to meet us at these coordinates.” He shot them over to Petroy.

Angel nodded at her first officer. “Once we’re free to jump into hyperspace, set our course to meet the other ship.” She hoped all this effort would be worth going through and that the disk would produce the coordinates Kirek sought.

“There’s news
…
” Kirek hesitated and looked up from his vidscreen, his eyes bleak, as if he had just been sucker punched. Mouth tight, jaw clenched, face fierce, he look like a warrior about to go into battle.

“What?”

“Ever since the wormhole destroyed Zenon, Federation scientists have been monitoring the core temperatures of their worlds.”

Oh
…
no. She didn’t want to hear whatever he was about to say. Her hands clenched.

As Petroy and Ranth flew the ship away from Dakmar, Kirek spoke through gritted teeth. “Mystique has become the temporary new Federation capital, and the core temperature there is heating.”

Kirek’s parents, his family, his friends—all of them lived on Mystique. His eyes shadowed with worry.

Despite her anger with him, no one should have to bear such pain. “Maybe the core temperature changes are normal fluctuations.”

“Federation scientists don’t think so. While the core temperature is rising slowly, they still have time to evacuate.”

“But?”

“There’s nowhere to go.”

“What do you mean? The Federation is made up of over two million planets.”

“And the planetary cores are heating on all of them. Even the uninhabited worlds.”

Stars. She stared at him, so stunned she could barely think.

“How long
…
do we have?”

“No one knows. Since we didn’t monitor the process on Zenon, we don’t know if the core temperature increases slowly or exponentially.”

Angel had no words. The magnitude of the coming disaster was so overwhelming. “Surely the Federation can do something?”

“They are. They’re sending us to stop the Zin.”

“WHY JUST US?” Angel shot Kirek a look of despair when he followed her to her quarters. She floated in her cabin, stroking Lion, barely looking at him. As Kirek’s frustration with his circumstances mounted, he supposed he should consider it a victory that she had yet to order him to leave.

He’d hated the necessity of secretly altering her ship without her permission, but he refused to face the Zin without every technological device he could assemble in their favor. Ever since Earth’s exploding wormhole had pulled Kirek into the Andromeda Galaxy and he’d figured out a way to end the Zin threat, he’d known he would have to return in his body to accomplish his mission. Unfortunately the same encounter that had showed him how to destroy the Zin had made them aware he was determined to return.

After encountering one psi touch from Kirek, the Zin recognized he was dangerous to them and would never allow him to return to their home world. The Zin had psi of their own and they’d identified and tagged him as a threat. One psi touch had told Kirek that the Zin would hunt him with ruthless efficiency, and that’s why he’d tried to hide his tracks by secretly going to Dakmar on a salvage vessel, instead of one of Mystique’s newest ships.

That’s why he’d shipped a device to Dakmar that sat in the cargo hold, waiting for him to unpack and test. A portable computer neural net made to hold his psi—without it, he’d never sneak past the Zin.

When Kirek didn’t answer right away, Angel demanded, “Kirek. Why doesn’t the Federation send a fleet of ships?”

Surely Angel understood the terrible choice he’d had to make? He’d been caught between a marbalite rock and
bendar
glass,
with no wriggle room. “The Zin have advanced weapons far beyond our ability to counter, and a fleet would warn them I’m coming. One lone ship has the best chance of sneaking through their defenses.”

“So what would you have done if I hadn’t agreed to transport you?”

“I’d intended to buy the most advanced ship I could find.” He hesitated. There was more she needed to know, but not yet. He couldn’t allow his frustration to override his good sense. She’d been so angry over his alterations to her ship, he didn’t want to put more of the burden on her any sooner than he must. “The Zin know I’m coming, and they recognize my psi. Our best advantage is that they don’t know how or when I’ll arrive in the Andromeda Galaxy.”

“Why don’t I find that comforting?”

“This ship’s shapeshifting technology also has shields that mask my psi. It will allow us to get close enough to surprise them. I wanted to tell you
…
”

“But you didn’t trust me. So you went behind my back.”

“I wanted to tell you.” Aggravation at himself and at his mission boiled through him as he realized he’d given her the perfect reason to pull back from him on a personal level. “If there was one chance in a hundred that you wouldn’t let me renovate the
Raven
I couldn’t risk it. I was afraid you’d say no, and I wanted you with me. The mission stands a better chance of success with your help.”

She lifted her head and stared at him. “So you needed my piloting skills?”

He nodded. “The
Raven
can
sneak past Zin defenses—when I astral projected there, I scoped out their operation. I know what kind of traps they have, where they are, and how they work. It’s a one-ship job.”

“And then?”

“I turn them off.”

“Just like that? You walk into the deadliest enemy the Federation has ever known and just turn them off?”

He couldn’t help noting that she was avoiding the personal aspects of his decision to focus on the mission—a bad sign. “The Zin are a combination of machines and live beings. If I kill the power switch to the machinery, the living beings all die.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, seemingly quite aware he wasn’t telling her how he planned to get to the Zin. “And you, the Rystani warrior who doesn’t like to kill, are going to single-handedly destroy an entire race?”

“I must.” So she’d discovered his idiosyncrasy. Kirek objected to killing. She knew him too well, this woman he cared for. This woman who wouldn’t admit that the reason he’d hurt her so badly was because she had feelings for him, too.

If she’d been Tessa, she would have happily accepted the new upgrades. Tessa was a pure business woman. But to Angel, the
Raven
was home and carried emotional attachments. He should have taken her feelings into account, understood her better—because she certainly seemed to understand him.

She spoke evenly, her eyes giving away nothing. “To kill in self-defense is morally acceptable to most races.”

“I’ve always been able to find another way, but with the Zin
…
I may have no choice.” He stepped forward and saw her eyes soften for an instant.

“The Zin are threatening everything in the Federation. They have made this a confrontation to the death. It is not your fault that they’ve forced you to kill or be killed.” Her lower jaw dropped. “Why am I trying to make you feel better when I’m still so mad at you?”

“Because you have a good heart.” She snorted. “Because you know I needed to alter the
Raven.
”
Angel rolled her eyes at the ceiling as if he were a test of her patience. “Because you know that if I had asked, you might have said no. Our mission is simply too important for me to risk when I might not have been able to change your mind.”

“You should have asked me.”

“I was wrong.” He advanced another step, aching to draw her into his arms, wishing he’d trusted her, wishing he hadn’t hurt her, hoping she wasn’t going to pull back, because he’d screwed up big-time.

“Don’t come any closer.”

His heart ached. He should have trusted her. He should have told her the truth. He might have made the biggest mistake of his life. He’d violated her trust, and the damage might be irreparable. “I am sorry.”

“That’s not good enough.” She bit her lower lip. “You didn’t trust me and so you lied. Go away.” Her tone was hard, her words abrupt.

He leaned against the threshold, trying to tamp down his frustration, wishing he could undo the damage and ease her hurt. She’d believed in him, and his error had ruined her faith.

Although he was so certain she was the only woman for him, he had gone behind her back. He couldn’t even console himself that he might find another. Angel Taylor was the woman he wanted, and her rejection
…
hurt.

But Kirek wasn’t giving up on her or himself. “No matter how long it takes for you to forgive me, I’ll still be here. Still wanting you.”

“I understand what you did and why. But forgiveness isn’t the issue.”

Sometimes she surprised him. He’d expected her to shout at him about her ship, but she hadn’t released any of her rage at him. If she could forgive him, maybe there was yet hope for them, maybe he hadn’t damaged their relationship so badly that they could not make up. “You can forgive me?”

“You claim you want a relationship, but your mission is so freakin’ important, and you’re so driven that I always come second. I don’t trust you not to betray me again. Trust must be earned, and how can I ever
…
” Her voice broke and turned raw with anger and pain. “Get out.”

Her pain clawed at his innards and shredded him. “Are you sure?”

Kirek didn’t like leaving her looking drawn and pale and on-edge. He especially didn’t like leaving her when he knew he was responsible for her unhappiness. He had no plan to make things right again. No idea what he could do—and that multiplied his frustration tenfold.

“I need to be alone.”

Stars. She was withdrawing, rejecting
…
him. “I don’t want to leave you. Not like this.”

She drilled him with a hard and bitter look. “We aren’t making up.”

He tried a half-charming, half-sheepish smile. “You’ll miss me.”

She wasn’t buying anything he had to sell. “I missed both my husbands after the marriages were over, but that didn’t stop me from divorcing them.” She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. “You and I, we weren’t that involved. I’ll get over you.”

“I’d hoped you’d be happier with me,” he tried again.

He should have known better. She was too upset for him to mention anything to do with contentment.

She squared her shoulders with a dignity that knifed him. “Actually, I believe I’ll be happier without you.”

“Then I’ll simply have to change your mind.”

“Out.” She pointed to her door.

“I was wrong not to talk to you. It was a mistake. A huge one. I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Then she looked away, dismissing him. But as he turned to leave, a tear brimmed in her eye, and although she shook, she stubbornly refused to allow it to fall, closing her eyes and denying herself even the relief of tears.

Kirek would have preferred she shout, hit him, or cry than receive this stiff silent treatment that he no doubt deserved. He had abused her trust. Yet she couldn’t quite master the indifference she was trying to project to shut him out, and when he saw the tiny crack in her armor, he used his psi and moved at the speed of thought, so she wouldn’t have time to protest.