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Authors: Pauline Baird Jones

Tags: #Sci Fi

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BOOK: Kicking Ashe
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He turned and followed her out, paused when she did, noting that while her stance was easy, her eyes were alert, constantly scanning for threats.

“You are safe inside our perimeter.”

“Are we?” The question was serious, in look and tone.

“Of course.” He said the words, but felt doubt strike at certainty. Doubt that she wanted him to feel? It should annoy. “You are trouble.” His almost teasing tone surprised him and widened her eyes.

A half smile creased the neutrality of her face, softening it. “I don’t seek it, but it does seem to find me.” Her gaze assessed him. “Don’t think I corner the trouble market, though.”

Because she was right, he didn’t react, instead he jerked his head toward the research tent, matched his pace to hers. Gazes filled with curiosity tracked them. Curiosity but not disapproval. They were young, too inexperienced to understand the danger she trailed like her scent.

Ashe stopped just inside, neutral giving way to curious. It filtered into her scent, not displeasing, just different and edged with tension. It was a disquieting sight, looking at all those metal body parts. He’d felt it, too, still felt it, if he were honest. The line of heads, some of a differing size, were toward the back, but it was to them she headed first. She crouched in front, seemed to study their dead stares before pacing around to peer into the one Calendria had opened up, exposing a complicated mix of wires and gears.

“No power supply.” She straightened and looked around, then headed for the fallings bin.

“Don’t touch them,” he warned. She paused, her hand outstretched toward the half filled bin. “Some burn the skin.”

“Oh.” She retracted her arm, curled her fingers into the palm. “I’ve never seen Constilinium in its natural state.” She met his sharply narrowed gaze with arched brows. “What?”

“You have seen Constilinium in an unnatural state?” How could she know anything about Constilinium? It was a more closely guarded secret than their space program.

His tone was not friendly, so not a surprise her body shifted to battle ready. No visible weapon and yet still she managed to appear lethal.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted with a sudden grin that did not dispel the danger. “Now that I think about it. Never assume, right?”

Now he scented dissembling, not quite a lie, but edging that direction. Also surprise. His nose twitched and her head tipped to one side.

“You really can smell lying. That’s kind of cool. And a bit creepy.”

What did temperature have to do with lying? “Not just lying,” he reminded her.

Either she’d gotten better at hiding what she felt, or this did not worry her. Her gaze turned inside, and he had that sense again that she held an internal dialog with someone. He had argued with himself, but this felt different, looked it, too. She refocused on him, might have been a bit flustered when she realized he’d been watching her before she reassembled her neutral front and arched an inquiring brow.

So, not a complete recovery yet. It was as well he had not waited until tomorrow to bring her here. Now if he could just figure out the question that would crack her defenses, release the information he needed from her. It was a coincidence that his gaze shifted to her slightly pursed mouth and lingered there until she broke the connection by moving away.

She walked around the room, finally pausing by a table for the legs they’d collected. She picked one up, her fingers running down a calf.

“Crappy craftsmanship.” She glanced around. “Hardly worth the effort of bringing them here.”

This truth made him shift from one foot to the other. “You will explain automaton.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his feet planted to prevent further shifting.

“A self operating machine. A mechanical man. If I weren’t holding this, I’d have also said they are a fictional device from novels in the early twenty-first century Earth.” She picked up another leg, measured it against the first. “Different sizes like the heads. Interesting.”

Fictional? It was not a shock to learn she could read. Her strata would be high among her people. It showed in the way she spoke and moved, too. “Who created them?”

“That’s a good question. Wish I had an answer.” She looked up, met his disbelief with a shrug. “I only met a minion, not the creator.” She stepped to the torsos, touched the one with the burn marks on the chest. “That’s my work. Not that this was the kill spot. Took a head shot to take it down.”

He filed this information away, with a pointed twitch in his gut, though he was not sure why. It was as he’d suspected. These fallings were no threat to him or his team, though he took no ease from the thought with the
Zalistria
missing.

“It was after you?” So far her scent was clear of deceit.

“It shot at me.” She shrugged, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Of course, I might have shot first.”

“And the minion?”

“He shot at me, too.” She half frowned. “We both missed.”

“An aberration on your part?”

Her grin widened. “I do like to hit what I shoot at, but it was a bit chaotic. What we like to call a target rich environment.”

“You carry no weapon now.” Was it a question? Perhaps.

She flexed her hand, sighed. “No. Left it pointed at something…big.”

“Did you hit the something…big?”

“Unclear.” A wider, somewhat secret smile. A shrug. “It made a helluva big bang.” She sauntered back to the heads, walked the line of them, a finger trailing across each one, provocation in each step.

Heat spiked in his middle. He should feel aggrieved at how easily she pierced the dampening measures. Aggrieved is not what he felt, however. “Where did you have this shoot out with the minion?”

She hesitated, slanting him a look over one shoulder. “Earth.”

Earth again? He frowned, sensed a test in the word. “Where is Earth?”

“Milky Way?”

He shook his head, though for a brief moment, he had a sense of knowledge just out of reach.

“Interesting.”

“Is it in the Garradian system?”

“No.”

“You are intergalactic.” He felt a curl of excitement that owed nothing to his baser urges this time.

“I…” she paused again, “trail trouble.”

He would have said she was the trouble. He’d felt it before she arrived, felt it ramp up after, felt more incoming. Did it follow her or did she bring it with her? She turned from him, her hands on her hips, her head shaking. “What?”

“This is just…wrong. Weird and wrong.” She turned from it, facing him. “Usually I can see a line of logic, or at least dots that connect, but this is just,” her shoulders shifted as if from an itch, “wrong.” She tipped her head. “You feel it, too.”

“I felt it. And then we found you.”

She grinned. “Fair point, but I followed it. I didn’t make it.”

“You are an enforcer?” Incredible, but possible, based on her mien.

She seemed to consider the term, before shrugging. “I suppose I am, though it’s not a perfect description. More of a fixer, though sometimes fixing requires some enforcing.”

For some reason, this made him think of her weapon, left pointed at something big. Longing bit deep, a longing to be out there, free to see new galaxies and star systems, to burst the bonds that would eventually bind him dirt side. She shook her head once again, as if puzzled.

“What?” he asked again.

“Why collect them? The metals are crude, of no use to your people.”

He shrugged. “Calendria and her team are curious.”

“Is that why they are here? To study this stuff?”

He could think of no reason not to tell her, “They were sent to study the gravitational forces in this sector of our system.”

“This the same force that ate the Grenardian planet for lunch?”

The phrasing was strange, but he saw no reason not to confirm this as well. “There is concern it might reach deeper into the system, possibly threaten Keltinar.”

“It shouldn’t.”

She said this with certainty, as if she knew. Before he could find a way to ask, her attention returned to the fallings.

“So they stumbled on these after they set up the camp?”

He was not sure why he let her ask the questions, or why he answered. “They are a recent phenomenon.”

She frowned, shook her head once more.

“This is so wrong.” Her gaze shifted to him. “And you’re really wrong.” She stiffened. “You’re not here for this stuff. There’s something else.”

“Yes.” He hesitated, but this was the thread that connected all of it. “Odd appearances. Unexplained disappearances.” Where was Timrick? What happened to the
Zalistria
?

She didn’t look surprised, just nodded as if he’d said something she expected.

He frowned, studied the question, but decided it must be asked, no matter what it revealed. “You believe, as Calendria, that the appearances and disappearances are part of the gravitational shift affecting this sector?”

Her eyes widened. “More likely it’s caused by my big bang.”

“You did this?” He tried to feel outrage, but it was chilled by sheer shock. And curiosity. Followed by belief, though he should not believe such an outrageous claim. And then a cautious hope. If she’d caused it, then she could find Timrick.

“I had help. And if I hadn’t, things would be way worse, especially for you.” She bit her lip, as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

“How?”

“My big bang was an attempt to stop this nasty ass—nasty tush time tsunami created by an even more nasty tush bad guy.” She frowned again. “Messy, but necessary.”

That wasn’t the answer to the question he’d asked. And killed his brief hope she would help him find Timrick. “You are insane.” It would explain the truth filtering into her scent, though not the truth he felt in his gut.

“Am I?” Hands settled on her hips. “I’ll bet the fallings pop up on your tracking in strange patterns, wrong patterns, and some vanish before they hit. Others appear just before they strike. Bet you can’t track them long term. And the lack of heat or the fact that I survived impact doesn’t strike you as odd? Not to mention the weird tremors?”

She was correct, but… “You said you did not make the hole.”

“I didn’t. I just got caught in the wave that did.”

“From where?” The question was more of a stall than need to know, while he tried to sort through the tangle of information, the shift in her scent. Besides, it couldn’t be true, even if her scent said it was. The insane could sound quite logical he’d heard. Not that this sounded logical in any way, though what she said about the strangeness of the fallings was true.

“Where. That’s hard to explain and I’m not exactly sure. Time is…tricky.”

Shan drew in a breath. “What you say, it is—”

“A lie? But you’d know if I lied, wouldn’t you?” She looked almost sympathetic.

He’d meant to say insane. “Belief can affect scent.”

“Some of my people have this old saying. Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.” He frowned. “I know it’s not a perfect fit, but you wanted the truth. And you got it. So it kind of works.”

“All of your truth?” He almost sneered the question—though part of him hoped—what? He did not know.

“You couldn’t handle all of it, flyboy.”

He sucked in deep, prepared to blast her with some truth, but her sudden grin tightened his throat.

“I’ll make you a deal. If we both survive, I’ll give you all the truth you can handle.”

“Why would I not survive?”

“Because someone is gunning for you. Big time, gunning for you.”

 

FOUR

 

Are you out of your freaking mind?

Did she feel hurt that Lurch thought she was crazy, too? She thought about it and decided no. Lurch didn’t elaborate on the theme just let her feel him fulminate like an upset tummy.
Look, he needed to know someone is after him. He can’t protect himself if he doesn’t know. Honesty is always the best policy.
Had no idea where that came from, so must be from him—a sense confirmed when he harrumphed like a bad burp.
And we can’t figure out who is after him without his help.

He does not believe you.

No, but he can’t smell a lie cause I’m not lying. Right now he’s conflicted. Thinks I’m crazy even though he can feel I’m not. And a bit freaked out, but he’ll calm down and then we can get the bad guy and go home.
Ashe quelled the stab of dismay, helped by the thought of vivisection if they didn’t manage to get the heck out of this system.
Any progress on the repairs to my suit?
Okay, so she was trying to distract him, but she also needed to know. It was still her best hope to avoid getting gutted.

I am working on it.

“Someone is gunning for me?” Shan’s hands settled on his hips, his chin thrown up and a bit back, like a pirate on the deck of his ship. Or a commander on his bridge.

“Planning to big time, betray you.”

“You are only one who could
try
to betray me.”

She felt compelled to point out, “Only someone you trust can betray you.” His gaze narrowed to a knifepoint. “I could try to trick you. Hard to do with the sniffing thing. Attack. Difficult without a weapon.” Though not impossible, since she was also a weapon, but no reason to tell him that if he hadn’t already noticed this for himself.

“Or you are insane.”

“A person needs a little crazy or they never dare cut the rope.” It was a paraphrase. She had more insanity quotes, but she wasn’t sure he could handle them any better than the truths. Or that she should encourage the insanity defense. His lashes flickered. A hit? Maybe there was room for one more. “Or how about this one: Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.” His lashes flickered again. Did he feel locked in a cage? Or out of his place? If she had her time senses, she could see if he was in the wrong time, the wrong place. If, if, if.

We know something is wrong or we wouldn’t be here.

Never assume
she shot back at him.

“Why would anyone betray me?”

Ashe sensed uncertainty behind the scorn. She propped a hip against the table. “Is your world so perfect no one ever does anything skanky? No one ever jockeys for a leadership position they don’t deserve? No one stabs anyone in the back to get something they didn’t earn?”

BOOK: Kicking Ashe
3.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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