Chapter Nine
What the hell?
Carter halted inside the crowded cafeteria. Aym-Sec employees gathered at their usual tables, eating and chatting the way they always did, but his cyber operatives faced away from the forward left corner of the room. They stared at the wall while gulping their chow.
He pivoted in the direction they seemed to be avoiding.
Holy bejeezus!
In the corner, sat a naked Beth, eating breakfast.
Technically not unclothed, she’d donned her Shuttleport Authority travel suit. To an operative with cybervision, the see-through SA unitard provided little more covering than transparent polymer sheeting.
A heated rush of hormones shot straight to his groin as he rushed across the room, tearing off his shirt.
“Put this on.” He didn’t wait for her response but tugged the garment over her head. The image of two perfect dusky-tipped breasts burned into his brain.
“What are you doing? Stop it!” She squirmed like a toddler as he tried to dress her, but he got her head through the neck opening.
“Put your arms through the holes,” he ordered.
“What—why are you doing this?”
“Put it on. I’ll explain in a minute.” What his actual words would be, he didn’t know. She stopped resisting and slipped on the shirt. He grabbed her arm. “Come on, we have to leave.”
“I’m sorry. Am I late?” She pushed away from the table and stood up. His shirt dropped down to kiss the tops of her thighs, barely covering her ass and the brunette curls over her mound.
“Is this your stuff?” He snagged the small bag next to her table.
She reached for it. “I can carry it.”
“I’ve got it. Let’s go.” He hustled her out of the mess.
In the corridor, employees eyed them with curiosity, their gazes shifting from Carter’s bare chest to Beth.
“Why did you insist I put on your shirt? People are staring!”
“You need to change clothes. You can’t wear the SA suit.”
“I have to wear it. They won’t let me on the shuttlecraft without it.”
“I apologize.” He closed his eyes to block out the sight of her long, shapely legs, but opened them again when images of pert breasts and brunette curls flooded his mind. “I should have told you. We’re not traveling commercial, but in Aym-Sec’s private shuttle. You can wear civvies.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, but why bother to change? I’m dressed and ready to go.”
“You’re not dressed. Not around here,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. How could he tell her without embarrassing her or revealing top secret information? While she’d been vetted and had the highest security clearance, she didn’t yet have a need-to-know for the existence of Cyber Operations. Until she did, he couldn’t tell her anything. He took a breath. “You can’t wear the SA suit on Aym-Sec premises.”
“Why not? Does it violate an employee dress code? Is there a rule?”
“Yes. I’m making the rule right now,” he said. “No SA unitards. Ever.”
Beth planted her hands on her hips and stared at him. She had no idea how fucking adorable she looked, standing there in his shirt, her hair tousled from having the garment wrestled over her head. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, and stars help him, he wished it had been his bed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.
“Go change…please.”
She held her ground. “What’s wrong with the unitard?”
“People can see right through it!”
She jerked and glanced down at herself then scowled at him. “No, they can’t.”
“Yes, they can. Not everyone—that’s true, but certain people can.”
“What people?”
Me, for one. He’d conversed with planetary leaders, the secretary general of the AOP, all rank of ambassadors, military generals, quintillionaires, humans, aliens, cyborgs, androids. Finding the right words to speak to this woman escaped him. He avoided her gaze by staring over the sexy curve of her bare shoulder. His too-large shirt had slipped down her arm.
“The, uh, SA suit is manufactured from a, um…composite polymer to be transparent to security scanners.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Some employees here have had…optic enhancements giving them sharper vision than the average human…and they can, uh…see right through the suit. To them, you look naked.”
Her jaw dropped. She flushed. “How do you kn—oh stars! You-you…” Pink deepened to red.
Carter nodded. “I—yes. I can see through the travel suit.”
She grabbed the edge of his shirt, and pulled it up over her shoulder, gripping the fabric in her fist. “In the dining room, how many employees could see me?”
Every single cyborg, about a third of the room. “Not many. Just a few.” He lied not only to spare her humiliation, but also to protect the secrecy of Cyber Operations. If she guessed how many “employees” had had optic “enhancements,” it could raise questions.
“I-I’ll go put on other clothes.”
“Good idea.”
* * * *
Beth returned in a pair of black pants and a prim, rose-colored jacket, both totally opaque. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It was an honest mistake. The men who could see you understood your ignorance, so they didn’t sit there and ogle you.”
“You’re not saying that to make me feel better?”
“No. No worries on that score. I’m not known for sugarcoating the truth,” he said as they boarded the vertical transport. He palmed the GenScan, waited for the light to signal his identity had been authenticated. “Lobby,” he instructed the computer.
“What are you known for?” she asked.
His rep credited him with achieving the impossible. However, close associates like Brock and Mikala knew of the near misses, the times when he’d pulled success out of the drink at the last second, and of his abject failures. He obsessed over the losses. In the dead of sleepless nights, doubts lurched out of the shadows. What if Cyber Operations couldn’t defeat Lamani? What if the planets fell one by one until the balance of power tipped to Lamis-Odg? Trillions would die.
Cy-Ops had stolen a Terran woman right from under the nose of a Lamis-Odg general, saved a Faria from her murderous ex-husband, and rescued hostages from the predatory Ka-Tȇ. Saving individuals wasn’t so difficult.
Protecting a galaxy from an alien race bent on annihilating entire worlds when the alliance of nation planets was in denial over the extent of the threat? There weren’t enough nights left in his life to figure out how to do that.
Except, somehow, he had to.
“I’m sorry. I asked a wrong question,” Beth said.
Wrong? She’d hit a bullseye. “It got me thinking, that’s all.” He forced a smile. “I’m known for getting things done.”
The transporter stopped, the doors peeled back, and they stepped into a bustling lobby. Two Terrans, a winged-Faria, a Xenian, and a six-eyed Arcanian pressed forward to board the transport.
Her eyes widened. “Where are we?”
“The Galactic Trade Center. I’d forgotten you didn’t see any of this when you arrived.” He steered her away from the throng.
“Aym-Sec is located in the GTC?” she said in a hushed voice.
“You were expecting an abandoned industrial complex?” he asked.
“Something like that.” She squinted and rubbed her temple.
“Terra has no abandoned buildings. Anything not in use is refurbished and/or repurposed.”
She glanced back at the transport. “Can those people access the Aym-Sec floor?”
“Not without a genetic scan. None of them know the subterranean complex exists.” He omitted mentioning his money had built the GTC and the secret facilities below it.
She swept out her hand to encompass the crowded lobby. “So, while I was wearing blinders and electrocuffs, Morhain and Butler marched me by all these people?”
“No. There’s more than one entry. You weren’t escorted in through the main entrance.”
His Personal Vehicle idled curbside. Its door opened. “Good morning, Mr. Aymes,” the PeeVee greeted him.
He turned to usher her into the passenger cab, and she winced and massaged her temple.
“Headache again?” he asked. “I thought you weren’t having them anymore.”
“I wasn’t. This one came on all of a sudden.” She eased past him and got into the cab.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad. Just a twinge.”
He stowed their bags in the storage compartment then got in. The door sealed. “Shuttleport,” he told the computer.
“Standard or evasive maneuvers?” the PeeVee asked.
“Standard.” He settled against the seat.
The PeeVee merged into traffic and zipped away.
“Evasive maneuvers?” She arched her eyebrows.
“Optional features preventing the PeeVee from being tracked.” He prevaricated a tad. If the vehicle acquired a tail, a cloaking device would render it and the passengers near invisible. It also disabled the legally-required electronic identification signature. His PeeVee had been manufactured by Dale Homme, an inventor and cyborg on the Cy-Ops payroll who built spaceships with cloaking devices.
“It sounds very clandestine.” She laughed. “Like Aym-Sec is a secret spy agency.”
He schooled his expression to one of amusement. “It does, doesn’t it?” Again, without realizing it, she’d hit very close to a bullseye.
Beth pointed out the window. “That’s my hotel. I had no idea it was so close to Aym-Sec.”
“It’s close to the Galactic Trade Center. Many visiting diplomats stay there for convenience.” The location allowed Cy-Ops to keep a close eye on potential threats.
“The ride seemed to take a long time.”
“The PeeVee took a circuitous route so you wouldn’t realize where the facility was,” he admitted. Until recruits were vetted, it was standard operating procedure.
“You were that suspicious of me?”
“Aym-Sec takes security seriously,” he replied.
As they neared the spaceport, the sky over the multitiered structure filled with launching spacecraft, from large commercial cruisers, to fierce military drones and manned fighters, to private pods. Some climbed the sky in switchback patterns while others zoomed in a vertical trajectory into the atmosphere, their individual computer guidance systems preventing collisions.
The PeeVee arrived at a three-forked tunnel and veered to the leftmost one. Lights flashed by in a streak.
“How’s your head?” He wondered if the strobe effect would worsen her headache.
“Fine, now,” she replied. “It’s never been an unrelenting throb. More like a sharp jab that goes away until the next one. No biggie. I’ve lived with it my whole life. I’m used to it. It won’t affect my work performance.”
“That wasn’t why I was asking.” Did she really think that?
“I want you to understand how serious I am about my position at Aym-Sec. I can’t thank you enough for giving me the opportunity.”
Emerging onto a deserted shuttle field, the PeeVee sped to a guard station outside a gated area at the far end of the tarmac. The window lowered, and the android guard peered inside, his electronic eyes focusing on Carter’s face. The orbs flashed green as the bot completed the identity scan. “Good morning, Mr. Aymes. Going anywhere special today?”
“Just along for a ride,” he replied. Mars is nice this time of year. His cyborg brain shot the pass phrase to the android’s central processing unit.
Robotic eyes flashed green again. “Enjoy your trip.” The security gate opened, and the PeeVee zipped through.
* * * *
Of course he had his own private spacecraft—which he flew himself rather than let the computer do it. As they cleared Earth’s atmosphere and entered outer space, he guided the craft with a steady, sure hand on the nav stick. She wasn’t sure which came as a bigger eye-opener—Aym-Sec or the man who owned it.
The security company was located beneath the Galactic Trade Center! His PeeVee had been programmed with “evasive maneuvers.” The android at the guard station had obviously performed some sort of identity scan.
She’d expected a little private pod, but his shuttle was a sleek space vessel with the capacity to carry at least twenty passengers and sleep ten. It couldn’t compare to the O’Sheas’ fleet of M-class luxury spaceships, but she had a hunch Carter’s vessel was tricked out with techno wizardry the O’Sheas couldn’t even guess at.
Her stomach fluttered with the oddest sort of nerves, and she felt tongue-tied. Much larger than the cabin of the PeeVee, the cockpit had space for the captain and first officer to stand and watch through the massive view screen. Even sitting, Carter dominated the space, overwhelming her senses with his presence.
Or maybe it was the realization he’d seen her naked.
Not to mention staff members. Embarrassing, yes, but it disconcerted her more that Carter had seen her. The boss. The man she needed to impress to keep this job. Way to go! She’d wondered why he kept staring over her shoulder while insisting she change clothes.
The most attractive man she’d ever met didn’t care to take a peek. She’d paraded nude in front of him and failed to arouse his curiosity. From Liza’s vid-diary, she’d learned she and Carter had had a very active sexual relationship right up until she left Terra. They’d fucked like short-circuiting sex droids at every opportunity, and she looked like Liza, yet he hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in seeing her naked.
I wanted to distinguish myself from Liza, and I guess I succeeded. She hadn’t expected victory to feel so much like rejection.
She should be happy with what she’d accomplished so far. She had an identity of her own, gainful employment, a place to live, and she was free of the O’Sheas.
However, with safety, shelter, and a livelihood, she’d begun to dream of more, of having a normal life like a natural born human. To love someone and be loved.
Perhaps her growing attraction stemmed from gratitude. He was the first person to learn the truth about her and not treat her like an unwelcome obligation or an android without self-awareness or emotions. He acted like being a clone was a nonissue—and he’d known the original. I should focus on the positive—he sees me as human. Not a person he’s sexually interested in, but normal.
Or did it matter, after all? Maybe a clone could work for him, but he desired a real woman in his bunk.
It’s better this way. Before searching for a job, she’d studied employment dos and don’ts. High on the list of no-nos was getting involved with one’s employer. It was considered the quickest route to termination.
Carter sat in profile. He wasn’t conventionally handsome. His chin was too determined, and his dark eyes too guarded. His lips, though full, often straightened to a stern slash. A man who reflected before he spoke, he said little and revealed less. But, with a rare smile, or a rough laugh, he stirred yearnings that could be satisfied only in her dreams. A single glance sent her emotions spiraling. You couldn’t hold a star in your hand, and that’s what Carter was. A star. A hot, burning…
“Like what you see?” he asked.
Her stomach fluttered to the beat of her racing heart. “Sorry. I should have known better than to stare at a man with visual enhancements.”
“It didn’t take enhancements to notice your scrutiny—only peripheral vision.” His teeth flashed with that fleeting smile, evoking a heavy ache in her woman parts.
“You’re a bit of an enigma.”
“Oh good. That’s what I was going for.”
“You like being hard to read.”
“In my line of work, it’s a necessity.”
“I guess it would be.” Sometimes she hid her emotions well, other times she feared she was too open. There was a lot to learn, and she had a lot of catching up to do.
“We’re passing through sector R-9.” He gestured at the view screen. “Isn’t that the O’Sheas’ space station?”
She’d been so focused on him, it hadn’t registered the ship had slowed to cruise through the residential satellite sector. Portside, a glowing monolith of ostentatious wealth lit up space like a second sun. She remembered how hope had ballooned the first time she’d laid eyes on it—when she’d arrived fresh from Clo-Ventures. Then came the defeat and desolation of reality when she’d set foot on it.
Now? Relief. I’m my own person, not a copy, not an imitation.
“That’s it,” she said. “How did you guess?”
“The O’Sheas’ reputation precedes them, and it kind of stands out,” he said.
Resembling a huge, gleaming daddy longlegs spider, eight long tubular housing modules extended from a massive ovoid center. Only the uber-wealthy could afford residential satellites and place them in orbit around Earth, and the O’Sheas’ dwarfed its neighbors. Its size and unique design placed it in a class of its own. Each individual spider leg could house dozens of families, but full-time occupancy consisted only of Georgetta and Reuben—although they often entertained dignitaries, tech scions, and celebrities. An android staff of 150 kept the satellite running.
Within the spider’s body were acres of gardens, a lake, vegetable and flower farms, nature trails, and wildlife parks inhabited by Terran and alien creatures including deer, squirrels, yacuni, moochins, and bright-colored birds. She’d spent a lot of time in the woods and gardens, getting lost once, sheltering the computer-induced night curled up under a tree. No one had bothered to search for her.
“Do you miss it?” he asked.
“Like a case of the clap,” she muttered.
For a moment, there was only the hum of the engines, and then he threw his head back and roared. He laughed so hard, he switched the ship’s control back to the computer. Wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, he spun around to face her. “Where did you come up with that?”
“Isn’t that a Terran idiom?” She’d studied Earth slang in four languages to optimize her chances of fitting in.
“Used to be, until gonorrhea was eradicated two centuries ago.”
What other anachronisms might she have uttered? Other than with the androids, whose conversations tended to be rather robotic, she hadn’t had many opportunities to converse. “Well, you got my meaning, though.” He’d laughed like he had.
His eyes twinkled. “Yeah.” Then his face turned serious. “I’m sorry. You had a rough start to life.”
“Many have it worse.” News vids had shown her homeless living in squalor, refugees struggling for survival on war-torn planets, children inducted into armies, disenfranchised youth tricked into becoming MED suicide bombers. She’d been fed, housed in a grandeur few could imagine let alone achieve, and hadn’t lacked any physical comforts. Love, belonging, respect afforded to every person because he or she was human—those were denied.
“I promise it will get better.” He squeezed her hand. Though his touch was cool, warmth spread from the point of the contact throughout her body, infusing her clear down to her bones. Her stomach fluttered with that wild, crazy feeling she got around him. He’s being nice. Don’t read anything into it.
He returned his hands to the controls, but her heart continued to pound.
She was acting like an infatuated teenager.
Though her physical maturation might compare to a thirty-something woman, in terms of experience, she was an adolescent, and she was afraid Carter was her very first crush.
* * *
Note to self: don’t touch her anymore. It’s not safe.
She’d looked so lost. He reached out to comfort her, but the touch of her soft skin had sent jolts of awareness through his body. The image of her nakedness replayed in his mind. His cyborg brain couldn’t forget, and his human one refused to.
Why her? Why now?
He worked with many women, some of whom would be considered more attractive if objective standards such as facial symmetry and averageness were applied. Nor was his interest derived from reminders of Liza, whom he’d once cared about. Beth appeared vulnerable in a way Liza never was. Maybe that explained his growing attraction. Was he a sucker for a stray, like Brock had suggested? Probably, but until now, the disadvantaged had evoked sympathy, not desire.
If he couldn’t manage to control his response, his woody was going to become obvious.
He switched piloting to manual to have something to focus on. Unfortunately, his ship, like his PeeVee, had been acquired from the Moonbeam remanufacturing plant. Even on manual, the ZX7M practically flew itself, and there wasn’t much for him to do except grip the stick.
He cleared his throat. “I got word this morning the secretary general of the AOP intends to join Mikala at Luna Center.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m not, and Mikala is even less so.” He sighed. “Vincere and I don’t see eye to eye. Mikala wanted to sway some of the ambassadors. She won’t be able to speak openly if Vincere dogs her every move.”
“Why not tell him he can’t go?”
“The head of the Association of Planets?” Carter arched an eyebrow.
“You’re right. Bad idea.”
“Even if it didn’t violate protocol, it still wouldn’t work. Nobody can get Vincere to do anything he doesn’t want to do. That’s been the problem.”
“But, he’s the titular head, right? Don’t the ambassadors set policy and vote on the initiatives?”
“Yes, however Vincere advises them how to vote. He sets the tone and strategy and breaks the tie if votes deadlock. He’s a charismatic and likable guy, and that gives him tremendous influence.
“So, why don’t you like him?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can tell.”
He didn’t think much of the man, but he was of the minority opinion. Most people did like Vincere. “He means well, but his naïveté has endangered the galaxy.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing serious, yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“What should Vincere do that he’s not?”
“Stop being so damned nice.”
“He’s nice?”
“To a fault. He needs to crack down on Lamis-Odg and their allies, but he’s committed to diplomacy and negotiation. He refuses to offend anyone’s integrity or violate their rights as a free life form, so he soft-pedals security and issues galactic ‘advisories’ in place of military action.”
If the AOP had blown Lamis-Odg into the next solar system when they first started committing acts of terror a decade ago, the current problem wouldn’t exist. Cy-Ops would have taken care of it, except back then Cyber Operations didn’t have the munitions required. But the AOP did.
Now, however, it was too late. Lamis-Odg had colonized other planets and established satellite, lunar, and even asteroid outposts throughout the galaxy.
To end the reign of terror, they had to eliminate Lamani.
“So, what can be done?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and twisted his mouth. “Basically, what Mikala is trying today—do an end run around Vincere. You’re correct when you point out ambassadors decide policy through their votes. Mikala and a few others are trying to influence opinions one by one. It’s a slow process. Change won’t happen overnight—or before the Summit.”
“You’re afraid something will happen at the Summit, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Like an attack by Lamani?”
He nodded. “Intel we’ve received suggests he’s developed a weapon to penetrate conventional defenses. With all the AOP ambassadors and most world leaders assembled at Luna Center for the Summit, deployment of such a weapon could be devastating. A mass assassination would cause political chaos across the galaxy, leaving the planets vulnerable to invasion.”
Beth shivered and hugged herself. “It’s pretty serious.”
He pressed his lips together. “It is.”
“The security for the Summit is inadequate?”
“No, because Aym-Sec will provide the highest level.” Both Aym-Sec and Cy-Ops. Every cyborg he could spare would be there, but if Lamani unleashed his secret weapon, would the might of Cyber Operations be enough? They only had guesses as to what the weapon was. If the Summit went off without a security breach, that offered a temporary reprieve. Lamani would strike. It was a matter of when.
“The members of the AOP have to be convinced to take decisive action,” Carter said. “Mikala’s daughter, Penelope, is Terra’s ambassador, and she’s been doing what she can on the inside, but she doesn’t have the power base yet. As Earth’s leader, Mikala is responsible for Terra’s safety. She had hoped to talk to leaders from other planets, but with Vincere in attendance, it won’t be so easy.”
“Maybe I could distract him?”
“Distract him how?” He frowned.
“You were going to show me the facility. Maybe I could get him to do that, and then President Aaron would be able to talk to people without him.”
“That might work…” he said without conviction. Her suggestion was a good one. Not just good, perfect. Except, he didn’t like it. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t. It had nothing to do with the fact he’d seen Beth naked on two occasions and couldn’t erase the image from his brain, or that Vincere was considered to be a very handsome, charming man. Though he hated to admit it, the man was honorable. Misguided, naïve, but honorable. For all the man’s faults—and Carter had a lengthy list—Vincere was no predator. He’d never used his position to take advantage of women.
Truth be told, she could do far worse than the secretary general. A sour taste bubbled up from his churning stomach.
The two hadn’t been introduced yet, and he’d conjured the worst-case scenario. If attraction did develop between them, that was their business, not his. As long as Aym-Sec, Cyber Operations, and their clients were safe and secure, a flirtation between his logistics coordinator and the secretary general didn’t matter.
Flirtation? They haven’t even met!
Get a grip, Aymes.
“I might be able to talk to him. I’m a stranger, and maybe a fresh, unbiased opinion might have some influence.” Beth looked at him with an eager, hopeful expression. She volunteered to help—and had the means to do so. At this point, they needed every edge. He couldn’t shake the feeling time had run out.
“Let’s try it.” He tried to sound enthusiastic but wasn’t sure he succeeded.