Too Close to the Sun (The Sun 1) (8 page)

He undid the self-adhering tabs securing the brace and removed it. Unfastening his pants, he let them fall to the ground, baring his legs. Then, with purposeful movements, he ran the warm beam of the Reparator over his broken leg.

The warm tingle of increased molecular activity told him the cells were beginning to mend. Before the bone and flesh could do more than lightly knit together, the Reparator died.

A feeling of defeat consumed him. Alex was counting on his assistance when they reached their destination, but he wouldn’t be much help with a broken leg. The Reparator ran on pure tyrillium crystals, which were not so readily available.

Michels
. The thought came unbidden and Yanur knew with certainty that Alex would suggest the "boy" take his place for the rest of the mission.

He couldn’t allow that. Going into a closely guarded black market environment was dangerous. What if she found Alex’s body but had to fight to secure it? She had survived the Free Rebel attack, but could she fight the Harvesters? They could prove to be a far worse adversary. What if she was injured? Or worse, what if she was killed?

Which lead Yanur to his final argument. Alex. Althusians were very protective of their females – Alex even more so. He would rather suffer a thousand deaths than allow a woman to suffer the smallest of injuries.

Yanur had merely to reveal the truth about Michels and Alex would refuse to let her help. But in doing so, what cost would Alex pay?

With a heavy heart, Yanur set the Reparator carefully back in the bag and strapped the brace around his broken leg.

Straightening, he heaved a sigh and squared his shoulders. Then he headed for the bridge.

* * * * *

Ruling House of Scyphor

Planet of Coronado

Sitting behind the desk where he conducted most of his business, the High Counsel of the House of Scyphor, the dominant region on the planet of Coronado, confronted the two soldiers standing before him. His three most trusted advisors stood silently by his side.

“High Counsel, we went to Earth as instructed,” the first soldier began. He was the older of the two and battle worn, with scars crisscrossing his face and bare arms. As were most Coronadian males, both were tall and muscular, with warring blades hanging at their sides.

“Where is she?” The elderly man’s cold tone was as sharp as glass shards.

Neither warrior allowed any emotion to cross his face. “We tracked her to the airfield,” the older one said. “Felinean Avengers were after her and she escaped in an airship. Before we could intercept her, Colossus Disrupters attacked the airfield.” There was the barest hesitation before he continued. “We lost her in the confusion.” He fell silent. He had failed his mission. It was a blemish to his personal reputation and to the reputation of the legion of warriors he represented.

“Am I to understand that after eight years of carefully tracking her and letting her think she has eluded me that she has finally succeeded?” The High Counsel’s hand slammed down on the desk, his face darkening with rage. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes, High Counsel.”

“And the Felineans? I suppose you allowed them to escape as well?”

“No, High Counsel. I executed them.”

“Very well. Leave me,” the High Counsel growled, waving a gnarled hand toward the door. After the soldiers left, he turned to his three advisors.

“Contact our emissaries. When she resurfaces, I want to be the first to know. She--” He fell into a coughing paroxysm. The young men moved closer to offer assistance, although they knew nothing could be done. The old man was dying. It was just a matter of time.

When the spell subsided, the High Counsel raised his hand and the men stepped back. “Find her and see that she is brought back. Now leave me. I wish to be alone.”

Behind his back, the men exchanged glances, but nothing on their faces revealed their thoughts. They bowed and walked from the room. None of them spoke before parting to go in different directions, presumably to carry out the High Counsel’s directives.

As the three each walked away, one considered how best to execute the High Counsel’s orders, one fantasized about the young kitchen maid whose charms he plotted to enjoy in the very near future - and the last thought about plans to save his people and take over a planet.

* * * * *

Angel lost track of time as she stood directly under the shower’s spray and let the warmth seep into her pores and loosen tight muscles. Lulled into a dreamlike state, her thoughts wandered to Romanof.

What kind of man was he? Dangerous, she decided, her mind conjuring an image of a darkly sensuous man, his face hidden in shadow. Moving with the grace of a panther, his sleek, powerful body moved close to hers. Rough hands caressed her, leaving highly sensitive skin tingling in the wake of his warm touch. When he whispered words of passion into her ear, it was Romanof’s full, masculine voice she heard.
Oh yes, very dangerous.

She’d been alone too long if she was starting to fantasize about a computer, she thought abruptly, shaking off the last remnants of the daydream. As for Romanof, he was probably an old man like Yanur, who just happened to have a great voice. Hell, it probably wasn't even his voice.

She turned off the shower’s mist and stood for a few seconds letting the last drops of moisture evaporate, feeling disgusted with herself for letting a computer-generated voice arouse her imagination. Such daydreaming was absurd. Her number one concern at the moment should be getting back to Earth where she could enlist Dugan’s help to get safely to a location of her choosing.

Slipping out of the shower, she went in search of clothes. Again, a pleasant musky scent filled her senses when she opened the closet door, reviving briefly the image of her dark dream-lover. Then a new thought occurred to her. These were Romanof’s clothes! Unable to stop herself, she leaned further into the closet, inhaling the musky scent and letting her hand trail lightly across the garments while she enjoyed the feel of well-worn cloth against her fingertips.

Tightening the leash on her imagination, Angel pulled out a uni-fit jumpsuit and put it on. She found the comb and dragged it roughly through her hair, using the pain to help focus her concentration.

She was back in control by the time all the tangles were out. After putting on her boots, she picked up the supplies she had discarded earlier and walked out of the room.

She replaced the items in the closet where she’d found them and, as she shut the door, the sound of voices from the bridge caught her attention.

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

Angel detected an apologetic tone to Yanur’s voice. “What’s up?” She asked, walking onto the bridge to sit in the pilot’s chair. Her question met with silence, so she looked at Yanur, but found his expression unreadable.

“Yanur has just informed me that he will be unable to assist me when we reach the Harvesters' planet,” Romanof said.

“Because of his broken leg?” Angel asked.

“Correct. Therefore, I require your assistance, Michels.”

“What?” Angel asked at the same time that Yanur said, “No.”

“Is there a problem?” Romanof asked.

Angel looked at Yanur, curiosity momentarily distracting her from her objection. “I know why I’m objecting, but why are you? Don’t you think I can help? Or maybe you don’t trust me.”

“I think you know why I’m objecting. Now, you can tell him or I will.”

“Tell me what?” Romanof asked while Angel continued to study Yanur.

Any delay in retrieving Romanof’s body increased the chances of never recovering it. Why would Yanur condemn his friend to eternity as a computer, unwilling to even make the attempt? Romanof obviously had no problem sending her into highly dangerous situation, unless…

A new thought hit her. Maybe Yanur hadn’t yet told Romanof she was a woman. She pinned the older man with her gaze. “You said earlier that I was brave. Don’t you think I can do this?”

“It’s not what I think that’s important here.”

So the objection would be Romanof’s. Interesting, she thought. “He wants me to go.”

“He doesn’t know the truth.”

Did that mean that Romanof would change his mind if he knew she was a woman? He would rather spend eternity as a computer?

It would serve him right, she thought, for being narrow-minded.

Well, she had grown up around men like him - men who thought women were inferior, unequal to men in intellect and skill. In fact, she had left home to get away from men like that and the last eight years were proof enough that she was as capable of surviving the dangers of the universe as any man.

Of course, if she wanted off the ship, then why was she even considering taking on this mission? Was she crazy? All she had to do was tell Romanof the truth and he'd dump her at the nearest safe port.

"Would someone like to tell me what the problem is?" Romanof asked, his tone causing the image of the man from her daydream to flicker to life before she could squelch it.

Was she willing to sentence Romanof to eternity as a computer without even trying to help him? Was she that selfish?

“No problems.” Angel looked pointedly to Yanur. “I’ll do it."

Yanur looked sorry as he shook his head. "I can't let you. You're a wo--"

“Boy?” Angel blurted out. “He thinks I can't do it because I'm young, just a boy. But I'm not as young as you think. I’m twenty-three and I think I’ve already proven I can handle myself under fire.” She directed her next words exclusively to Yanur. "I'm his best shot at getting back his body. Just because I'm not Richardson doesn't mean I can't do this."

The wait, though only seconds, seemed interminably long.

“Perhaps Michels is right,” Yanur finally said.

“Then let’s get started,” Romanof said. “Yanur, show Michels how to operate the transfer unit. When you’re done, we’ll go over my plan.”

“Shall we?” Yanur rose from his chair and gestured to the door. Angel stood and preceded him out. “Perhaps we could stop by the galley,” he added. “I find I could use a drink.”

Chapter 5

After an hour of going over the operation of the transfer disc, Yanur pronounced Angel ready. Romanof had outlined his plan, which seemed simple enough, and then Angel retired to her room to rest until Romanof summoned her hours later.

As soon as they entered the Harvesters' air space they were contacted by Ground Control. Romanof persuaded the authorities they were traders, intent on spending large sums of money. He then followed up the story with a sizable transfer of intergalactic credits into a temporary account to prove they had the funds to transact business.

In return, they were given the coordinates for the landing field and Angel, now piloting the ship, merged into the busy traffic pattern, descending slowly to the surface, to what appeared to be a large tarmac. As soon as they landed, a stasis field enveloped the ship, pinning it to the surface. Stasis fields were not unusual, but were usually pilot-activated. Angel had issued no such command.

“Romanof?”

“Planet-activated insurance policy. Probably to make sure we settle our accounts before we leave,” he deduced. “Black market planets don’t attract the most trustworthy clients.”

Angel shut off the engines. “What now?”

“Time to go shopping.”

“So soon?” She felt an unwelcome tremor of apprehension. She had reconciled herself to going out among the Harvesters, but what was the rush?

“I’ve been monitoring local transmissions. It’s about mid-morning here and the business district is just opening. The ship we followed arrived just before sun-up, so the bodies on board are likely to be sold this morning - while they're still fresh. I don't want to take the chance of missing my body when it goes up for sale."

“How am I going to know which one is yours? I don’t know what you look like,” she pointed out.

“Not a problem,” Romanof informed her. “You'll take me along in the CHB. We’ll establish communication via a concealed comm-link, which you’ll wear. The ship will track my body’s signal and transmit its location relative to the CHB. I’ll tell you when we’ve located it. All you have to do is purchase it."

Angel gave Yanur a weak smile. "Gee, it sounds so easy."

Neither man seemed to notice her sarcasm. They were all business.

“Yanur, you’ll stay on board and monitor transmissions.” He paused. "At the first sign of trouble, take off. Type in the command “Go Home” and the ship will transfer enough credits to the bank to ensure you receive departure clearance and release the stasis field. The ship will then return automatically to Earth. Same thing if we’re not back in sixty hours."