Warrior Page 8

  And how much of all that anger is sheer sexual frustration? Jess wondered. That kiss had been pretty damned steamy, after all. She considered teasing him about it, but a glance at his rigid back made her carefully close her mouth again.

  Better not.

  6

  Dona Astryr watched the Master Enforcer lead the primitive away, his steps so long and angry, Jessica almost had to run to keep up. She sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that pissed off. But I guess we had it coming.”

  “We?” Ivar shook his head, his expression chagrined. “Don’t you mean me? It was my screwup. I could have killed her. Or at least hurt her badly.”

  It had been uncharacteristically clumsy of him. Ivar normally demonstrated an almost superhuman awareness in combat; he rarely put a foot wrong. But he was also competitive as hell, and sometimes his need to win drove him to take too many chances.

  Knowing he’d probably browbeat himself about his mistake, Dona gave his beefy shoulder a pat. “Luckily, the primitive’s not hurt. And we’ll both be a lot more careful the next time.”

  “I’ll try.” Ivar’s lids lowered as he gave her a molten stare. One corner of his handsome mouth kicked up in a wicked little smile. “But you can be very distracting.”

  Her heart gave an eager thump as he drew her into his arms. As always, his kisses seared her right to the soles of her boots. Dona sighed wordlessly into his mouth and twined her arms around his powerful neck.

  Even as Ivar worked Dona’s mouth with skillful hunger, he considered the implications of his little experiment. He hadn’t really expected it to work; he’d assumed Galar would block him before he could do any interesting damage. Even if he’d gotten lucky, at most he’d have broken one or two of the little bitch’s bones. Regen would have taken care of that in short order, though the reaction of all concerned would have been entertaining.

  As it was, he’d scared the hell out of Galar and the primitive without arousing anyone’s suspicions, a neat and thoroughly enjoyable trick.

  Besides, the Master Enforcer’s reaction had been interesting, to say the least. He’d gotten quite a bit angrier than Ivar had expected. The Ice Lord generally didn’t seem to give a damn about much of anything. Yet he’d been thoroughly pissed off at the primitive’s close call.

  Such intense emotion suggested a weakness Ivar could exploit, given the right opportunity.

  And Ivar was very, very good at finding—or making—the right opportunity.

  “This time travel thing confuses me,” Jessica told Galar as they headed down the corridor. She’d decided his still-simmering anger warranted a change in subject. “I know you can’t change history, but I don’t understand why.” Thoughtfully, Jess added, “Though I guess nobody would risk it if there was a real chance of wiping yourself out of existence.”

  “Actually, at one time, we did worry about that. Quite a lot. But we’ve since discovered that’s not the way it works.” Something small and bright red blurred through the air toward them. Galar reached out a hand and snagged it with offhand skill before it could dart past.

  “Release!” a tiny voice shrilled. “I do not belong to you!”

  “Hush,” Galar told it.

  “What is that?” Curious, Jessica craned her head to look down in his hand. The thing was about the size of a baseball, but it was covered in bright crimson fur fine enough to wave in the air currents. Big, bulging cartoon eyes rolled in alarm. It had no visible nose or limbs, but its mouth was wide and pink, reminding her vaguely of Kermit the Frog.

  “It’s a ’bot—a toy.”

  “I’ll bite!” the thing squeaked.

  “I wouldn’t advise it.” To Jessica he added, “The perception of time in the twenty-first century is a little off. You think of it as a river, something that moves and changes. But it’s not.”

  Jess frowned, considering the implications despite the headache it was starting to give her. “So everything is predestined? ”

  “Not predestined. It is what it is.” He held up the toy. “Look, our little friend here exists in three dimensions— width, height, length. He’s made up of molecules, atoms, electrons, protons, neutrons, quarks.”

  “Right.” Jessica nodded. “We know that even in my century. ”

  “But he also has a fourth dimension, extending from the moment he was created in a factory to the moment he breaks and is put into the recycler . . .”

  “Yeep!”

  “. . . made up of years, hours, minutes, seconds, milliseconds, chronons . . .”

  “Chronons?”

  “The smallest possible particle of time. Anyway, he’s got a temporal structure just as he has a physical shape.”

  “But what if I went back in time and stomped on him? Wouldn’t that change his structure?”

  The toy squeaked, a high-pitched peep of alarm. “I do not like you! Get away from me!”

  “You could,” Galar told her, ignoring the ’bot’s struggles, “But it would be a waste of time. We know he’s still here.” He gestured with the toy. “That tells us you failed to break him. He got away, he was repaired, or someone stopped you. But you can’t know what happened unless you actually go back and try it.”

  Jessica nibbled a thumbnail. “We could ask him.”

  “Yes, but he might lie. Or he might not even know because he didn’t see what stopped you. That’s the thing about history: you can never know what really happened—absent some kind of recording—unless you go back and experience it for yourself. Which makes it your future, not your past. Time travel means everything effectively takes place now.”

  She grimaced and rubbed her temples. “I think I’m getting a headache.”

  Galar nodded. “I know what you mean. I’ve been a time traveler for ten years, and sometimes these discussions still give me migraines.”

  “Wulf!” the little ’bot shrilled suddenly, jerking so violently, Galar almost lost his grip. “Wulf, save me!”

  “Flybot?” The answering voice was so deep, Jessica felt it more in her bones than her ears. She watched as a figure rounded the corridor. He was a couple of inches shorter than she was, yet he was impossibly broad. Not that there was an ounce of fat anywhere on his massive body. And if there had been, she’d have seen it; he wore one of those one-piece dark blue scaled suits that fit him without so much as a wrinkle. His gloved hands were so enormous, he could have palmed her head like a baseball. His booted feet were even larger.

  Despite his imposing proportions, he was surprisingly handsome, though in an angular, starkly masculine way. His eyes had an almond shape that suggested Asian heritage, but their color was a pale, pretty turquoise. His hair fell around those massive shoulders, straight and shining as a length of black silk. “Master Enforcer,” the big man rumbled by way of greeting. “Is Flybot bothering you?”

  “Just illustrating a point about time travel for my friend here.” Galar released the little toy, which darted to its owner with a squeal.

  Wulf caught it in a huge, surprisingly gentle hand as it instantly began to babble.

  “She said she was going to go back in time and smash me! Evil, evil creature!” Its bubble eyes rolled toward her and narrowed. “Hurt her!”

  “Shhhh,” Wulf said soothingly, stroking it between the eyes with one thick finger. “No one is going to damage you.”

  “Evil!”

  “You shouldn’t talk that way about guests, Flybot.” The big man shot her a steely look. “You have no intention of breaking him, do you?”

  Jessica swallowed, eying the size of those hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “There. You see?” Wulf strode off, still cooing at his pet. “You’re completely safe.”

  Galar watched them go, his lips twitching.

  Jessica eyed him. “You’re just dying to give him a hard time about his toy, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but he’d break me in half. That man could bench-press a tank. The world he’s from has five times Earth’s gravity, and he wa
s genetically engineered to be powerful even there.”

  “Is anybody in this place a normal human?” Jessica asked drily.

  “Just you.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s pretty well what I thought.”

  As if to illustrate the point, a slender young woman strode down the corridor toward them, a huge timber wolf trotting at her side. Jess had seen smaller Shetland ponies.

  “Ah, Riane and Frieka,” Galar said to the two, motioning them over. “Could you give me a hand with something, please?”

  “Certainly, Master Enforcer,” the wolf said.

  Jessica’s jaw dropped shamelessly. “He talks?”

  The wolf gave her a contemptuous look, then glanced up at his companion. “Primitives. If she calls me a dog, I’m going to bite her.”

  And it would hurt, Jess decided, eying his impressive fangs. A lot.

  Galar shot the big animal a dry look. “Keep your teeth out of my guest, Frieka.” He turned to Jess and gestured in introduction. “My fellow Enforcers Riane Arvid and her partner, Frieka. He’s a genetically engineered cyborg wolf, so don’t call him a dog. He’s a little sensitive.”

  “I’m no more sensitive about that than you are about being called an overevolved ape.” Frieka curled a lip in another intimidating fang display.

  Riane gave the top of his head a rap and smiled sweetly at Galar. “What can we do for you, Master Enforcer?” Like Dona Astryr, she was taller than Jess, with a lithely muscled build. She looked like the kind of woman who’d never had to watch her weight in her entire life. She also had a truly impressive tattoo running down one side of her pretty face in vivid blue and red, all swirls and intricate lines. One lock of her long red hair was braided and strung with gemstones.

  “I need to find the chief and make a report, but I don’t want to leave Jessica alone while I do it,” Galar told her. “Would you two take her to my quarters and stay with her until I get back?”

  “Your quarters?” Riane blinked in evident surprise. “You know, we could probably find her another—”

  “My quarters,” Galar rapped, his tone cold. Riane closed her teeth with a snap.

  Frieka’s gaze sharpened in sudden calculation. “You think the Xeran’s going to come after her here?”

  “Let me put it this way—I’d hate to be unpleasantly surprised. ”

  Riane straightened to attention, half-lifting one hand as if to salute before dropping it hastily. “We’ll provide any assistance we can, of course.”

  He gave her a smile that radiated warmth. “Thank you, Enforcer Riane.”

  Jess blinked, surprised by her own sudden green tide of jealousy. Where the hell had that come from?

  Jessica safely guarded, Galar strode down the corridor toward the meeting he’d scheduled with Dyami. They could have conducted it by com channel, but he felt the need for a face-to-face discussion.

  The Xeran situation demanded investigation, but he wouldn’t be able to handle it himself if he were guarding Jess. The chief would have to either assign another security detail or send someone else to go after the Xeran.

  Galar felt torn. He wanted to do both, but obviously that wasn’t an option.

  When it came to guarding Jess, he trusted Frieka and Riane more than anyone at the Outpost, with the exception of Dyami himself. After all, Riane was a Warfem, and loyalty was bred into Vardonese Warriors right down to the blood and bone.

  From the standpoint of sheer power, Wulf was another possibility, as were Dona and Ivar. The couple might have been careless in combat practice earlier, but they were solid agents. Not Vardonese, of course, but trustworthy enough.

  The memory of the combat practice debacle reminded him of that searing kiss. Galar found himself smiling in anticipation.

  He was sick of denying himself. If today had taught him anything, it was that ignoring the attraction was not an effective strategy. It had been too damned long since he’d been with a woman, and his desire for Jess was too irresistible. He’d be better off giving into it instead of letting it distract him at some crucial time.

  Such as when the Xeran showed up.

  Besides Jess was a damned unlikely source of betrayal. She was too honest, too innocent, despite her smoldering sensuality. In any case, she’d be leaving as soon as they took care of the Xeran, headed for her new life as a celebrated artist.

  All of which made her just about perfect for his considerable needs. Anticipation steamed through him on a tide of hot blood.

  One way or another, she’d be sharing his bed tonight.

  “He’s got a window,” Riane Arvid said with naked envy as she, the wolf, and Jessica walked into Galar’s quarters.

  “He is a senior officer,” Frieka pointed out, a string of blue lights flashing in the thick gray fur around his neck. Jessica’s implanted knowledge told her those lights must signify some kind of vocalizer. Otherwise he’d be unable to talk, since the anatomy of his throat, chest, and long, fang-filled muzzle were all wrong for speech.

  Jess was encouraged that the spurt of new knowledge barely disoriented her at all. Besides, she was too interested in Galar’s quarters to worry about it.

  Prowling the wall of shelves opposite his sprawling, neatly made bed, Jess eyed his collection of keepsakes. A rapier with a beautiful jeweled basket hilt and engraved blade caught her fascinated attention first, and she walked over to study its graceful, lethal lines.

  Then she noticed the trids.

  Obviously the equivalent of snapshots back home, they were glowing three-dimensional images that reminded her of snow globes. In one, a very young, very handsome Galar stood with an older couple, both of whom had intricate facial tattoos much like Riane’s. The male of the two was as broad and powerfully built as Galar himself, while the woman was a gently muscled blonde. Jess saw a definite resemblance in the line of the man’s jaw, in the color of the woman’s eyes. “These must be his parents.”

  “Probably,” Riane said, wandering over for a closer look. “This was taken at the Vardonese Military Academy. I recognize it.” She gestured at Galar’s black uniform. “Looks like a graduation shot.” Correctly interpreting Jess’s confusion, she explained, “Vardon is our home planet.”

  Jess turned to study the other woman. Her tattoo was the same color as Galar’s father’s, a swirl of red and blue, intricate and vaguely Celtic in design. “Are you two related?”

  The girl blinked. “No. Why would you think that?”

  “You’ve got the same last name.”

  “Oh. Arvid is just our House—the Femmat company that genetically engineered us. Most Warriors are raised in House creches and don’t have families at all. Galar and I are unusual in having biological parents.”

  Jess’s own father had left when she was only a couple of years old, but at least she’d had a mother. Even so, she’d always felt a deep envy of those with both parents. What would it be like to have no one at all? “Is everybody in the future genetically engineered?”

  “Not the general galactic population, no. Though scientists do use genetic engineering when they’ve got some kind of good reason—like adapting colonists for life on a planet where the atmosphere or gravity would be too much for a standard human.”

  “So Vardon is like that?”

  “Nope. It’s just run by hyper-controlling Femmats.” The wolf looked up from chewing industriously on his own flank. Reacting to Jess’s stare, he added defensively, “What? It itches, and unlike you overevolved monkeys, I don’t have fingers to scratch with.”

  As Jess wrinkled her nose, Riane rolled her eyes. “That’s nothing. He also licks his genitals.” She gave an elaborate shudder.

  The wolf sniffed. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Nah,” Jess said. “It’s more fun when somebody else does it.” As Riane choked back laughter, she asked the wolf, “What’s a Femmat?”

  “The female aristocracy of Vardon.” The wolf sat back on his haunches and scratched with his hind foot. “Damn itch is trav
eling.”

  Without being asked, Riane knelt on the floor beside him and started digging her nails into his fur.

  “Up some,” the wolf instructed. “To the right. . . . Ahhhh! You got it. Bless you, kid.”

  Jess watched the two absently, her mind working. It seemed that though her EDI was extensive, it didn’t include everything. Which only made sense, since there were one hundred and three worlds in the Galactic Union alone.

  The only one that really interested her, though, was Galar’s home planet. “Women run Vardon?”

  “Yep,” Riane explained, giving Frieka’s muscled ribs an affectionate thump as he lolled back on the floor. “A bunch of scientists wanted to create a utopia a couple of hundred years ago. Theory was that men commit most of the crimes and a lot of the social injustice . . .”

  “Apparently they’d never gone to an American high school,” Jess muttered.

  “. . . so they figured they’d use genetic engineering to get rid of sociopathy, ambition, and aggression.”

  Jess sat down on the bed and cocked her head at the agent. “Why does this sound like a really bad idea to me?”

  “Actually, it worked,” Riane said. “The crime rate on Vardon is the lowest in the Galactic Union. Thing is, law-abiding people can be a bad thing, depending on the laws they’re abiding by.”

  “Like when the Xer invaded forty years ago,” Frieka added. “None of the civilians put up any fight at all. The bastards would still be running Vardon if it wasn’t for us.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking none of you guys strike me as lacking aggression.”

  “Exactly,” Frieka said. “Soon after they started their little experiment, the Femmats realized that though they might be peaceful, their neighbors definitely weren’t. So they created a genetically engineered warrior class.” He nodded at Riane. “Warlords and Warfems, they called them, bred for strength and speed, with battle-comp implants and sensors.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a bunch who’d take an invasion lying down.”

  “Nope,” Frieka told her. “In fact, they formed an underground resistance force. It took them five years to drive the Xer off the planet, but eventually they succeeded.”