Master of Darkness (24 page)

Dona lifted the stiff brown pillow that had lain under Hardin’s head. A courier bot popped out from beneath it, darting into the air with its anti-grav spilling blue light. She barely managed to bite back a startled yelp.

“Alerio Dyami!” the bot thundered in a surprisingly deep voice. “I seek Alerio Dyami, Chief Temporal Enforcer of the North American Outpost.”

“I’m Dyami.” Alerio studied the device with narrow-eyed intensity. “My sensors say it’s a Xeran bot,” he murmured to Dona.

She backed off, one hand falling to the shard pistol holstered at her hip. Luckily, the fact that the courier had traveled in time meant it was unlikely to be armed with any really interesting energy weapons. Anybody or anything attempting a temporal jump armed with a tachyon beamer would only blow itself to all seven hells.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of other ways to kill, even a target as formidable as Alerio Dyami. Dona watched the bot with hard eyes, ready to fire if it made one move toward the chief.

“I have a message for you,” the courier announced. “Would you like to take it privately?”

“Chief, don’t!” Chogan began urgently.

Dyami shot her a cool look. “Give me a little credit, Doctor. I’m not stupid enough to smear anything from that thing on my skin.” To the bot, he said, “I’m not concerned with privacy. If you’ve got a message, play it.”

“As you wish,” the bot said cheerfully.

And just like that, Ivar Terje stood in the middle of the room.

Dona damned near drew her pistol before logic kicked in.
It’s just a trid, idiot.

“Don’t shoot the bot, Dyami,” the three-dimensional recording said with a smirk. Ivar was inhumanly handsome in the way of the genetically engineered—at least until you realized his eyes were as cold and gray as the ice on a frozen planet. He’d cut his hair since she’d seen him last, buzzing it so short it covered his head in a red bristle. The style was apparently designed to call attention to the silver implants jutting from his skull.

“Look who’s wearing horns!” Chogan curled a lip. “Looks like Terje’s pretending to be a priest of the Victor now.”

And I
slept
with
that
?
Dona thought, even more revolted.

“
What do you think of my handiwork, Chief?” Ivar’s image flashed a vicious white grin. “Hells, that Lolai was a squealer. If not for the mute field, every primitive for miles would have come running.” The grin widened still more. “It’ll take a lot more work to get a scream out of Dona, but I’ll manage—eventually.”

To Dona’s surprise, Dyami stiffened, his dark eyes flashing red, his lips pulling back in a snarl. “You won’t get the chance, shiteater.”

Ivar chuckled, almost as if he’d heard the chief. “I’m sure you’re growling manly Warlord threats right now. I’d be impressed—if I were there. Instead I’ll just give you a choice. Surrender yourself to the Victor’s . . . justice. Along with Dona, Galar Arvid, Jessica, Nick Wyatt, and his whore Riane.”

Every trace of humor vanished from his face, leaving nothing but vicious intent. “Otherwise, my team and I are going to butcher every temporal historian, every trid crew, every tourist and guide we can get our hands on. And that’s a long list. Your choice, Dyami. Surrender now like the hero you are, or let innocents pay for your cowardice.”

The image winked out.

Dyami lunged for the bot in a blurring surge of cyborg muscle, but before his fingers could close over it, the thing darted away. A flare of blinding light and a thunderclap sonic boom signaled the bot’s Jump back to the Xeran home world.

When Dona’s ears quit ringing, Alerio was still pacing and cursing. “Courier probably recorded our reactions to Ivar’s little ultimatum. He’ll want to gloat.” He bared his teeth in something light years from a smile. “Glaciers will claim the Seven Hells before I surrender any of my people to those Xeran dickholes.”

That reaction didn’t surprise Dona in the least. “He meant it about the civilians, sir. They’ll slaughter every tourist and historian they can.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure they don’t get the chance.” His eyes were solid sheets of flame now.

And she was staring at him again. Her longing was probably written all over her face.
Fool
, Dona thought, dragging her eyes away.
He’s your commanding officer. Didn’t you learn a damned thing from what happened with Kagan?

* * *

The temporal journey
back to the North American Outpost was as grueling as always. The Enforcers Jumped from the house’s great room in teams of two, accompanied by body tubes.

Alerio kept watch as was his habit, covering his team’s retreat. As much as he could, anyway, having gone half-blind and deaf from the temporal flares and their accompanying sonic booms as they left. Luckily the suits’ dampening field kept anyone more than ten meters away from feeling the effects. No temporal natives would wonder why there was a thunderstorm
inside
the house next door.

Finally only he and Dona were left. For a moment, Alerio let his gaze linger on the cool purity of her profile, with its high cheekbones, striking violet eyes, and the mouth that seemed gene-gineered for sin.

He looked away just before she Jumped with a deafening boom.

His ears were still ringing as his comp started reciting the familiar string of coordinates back to the Outpost.

Coordinates confirmed. Engage temporal warp
, he told it.

Engaging temporal warp in three . . . two . . . one.

It felt like being hit by lightning. His mind blinked out . . .

Then he was back again.

Temporal warp to the Outpost successful
, his comp announced.

Alerio made no answer, half-blind, stomach knotting in a violent rebellion, his muscles jerking from the temporal warp. Bracing his knees, he stayed upright by will alone until his comp could compensate.
My team?

All members of the investigation team present and accounted for.

Alerio breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whatever Vardonese goddess happened to be listening.

He’d almost lost a Jumper once. Riane Arvid’s sabotaged T-suit had bounced her back and forth across Terran temporal space before finally dumping her in the twentieth century. There she’d encountered Nick Wyatt, half-breed Xeran and superhuman guardian of an alien race called the Sela.

Nick and Riane had returned to the Outpost desperately in love.

Still, almost losing an Enforcer was an experience Alerio had no desire to repeat. Especially considering Ivar’s threats.

It’ll take a lot more work to get a scream out of Dona, but I’ll manage—eventually
. Sickened, Alerio shoved the memory aside.

Blinking the spots from his eyes, he glanced around the cavernous room. Its heavily shielded walls a soothing blue, Mission Staging was lined with evidence and equipment lockers as well as regeneration tubes for treating the injured. Most temporal missions began and ended here, especially those featuring a large Jump team.

Alerio spotted Dona deep in an animated conversation with Riane. The young Warfem and her cyborg wolf partner had been with the crew working the house’s ground floor.

Enough mooning,
he thought, suddenly impatient with himself. He had work to do—and he wasn’t the only one.

Alerio lifted his voice to a command bark. “All right, let’s get the body tubes stowed. The evidence bots are to be logged in and their contents transferred into evi-stasis. And make damned sure they’re all
our
bots. Last thing we need is to give the Xerans another opportunity to sabotage our central computer.”

Chogan stepped over to him. “I’m headed for the infirmary.” She grimaced. “I’ve got fourteen autopsies to do.”

Alerio winced on her behalf. “I don’t envy you that job.”

She snorted and headed out, followed by her med crew and the pitiful parade of body tubes.

Meanwhile the Enforcers began scanning and decanting each bot. After sealing the biological evidence in stasis tubes to prevent further decomposition, they logged everything in with the Outpost’s main computer. If the Outpost’s investigators—or the Galactic Union’s Temporal Court—decided they needed any of that evidence later, it would be instantly available.

The procedure was one his people had done hundreds of times before. They didn’t need Alerio hovering over them like a Soji Dragon with one egg. Especially since he was only putting off a job even more onerous than the one they were doing.

Somehow he was going to have to persuade Colonel Bevera Evetti to order a moratorium on temporal tourist visas. At least until Ivar was captured—or Alerio twisted the traitor’s head off his shoulders.

That action would not be legal under Galactic Union law
, his comp informed him primly.

I do not give a stinking pile of Soji shit
.
Especially if he even thinks about going after my team.

Particularly Dona, who’d become Alerio’s obsession over the past two years. As Ivar damned well knew. The cyborg had been violently jealous of her even when he was still pretending to be a loyal Enforcer.

It had driven Alerio into a frigid fury, watching Ivar watch Dona’s every move while shooting little verbal barbs her way. There’d been times Alerio had literally ached to kick his subordinate’s ass from one end of the Outpost to the other.

Unfortunately, being Ivar’s commanding officer made that impulse impossible to carry out. Especially since Dona never reported her lover for his conduct. Alerio wasn’t sure whether she just didn’t notice—which strained belief, Dona being pretty damned observant—or whether she just had a very thick skin.

Even though it looked so incredibly soft . . .

He pulled his gaze away from her yet again and started mentally composing his report.

Fifteen minutes later, the evidence was logged in and the bots stowed. The Enforcers headed out, either to their quarters or in search of a meal at the Outpost Mess. Normally they joked and laughed after a mission, but tonight’s bloodbath had left them all in a grim mood.

Dyami followed, still wrestling with the report’s wording. He stepped into the corridor just in time to see Nick Wyatt pounce on Riane.

Alerio watched with an involuntary smile as the big man pulled his Warfem lover into a passionate kiss, ignoring her startled squawk. She melted against him an instant later, her long body curving into his, her arms twining around his broad back.

The chief frowned at his sudden stab of bitter envy. Despite himself, he flicked a glance at Dona, who watched the pair with a pained smile.

Remembering Ivar? God, he hoped not.

“Pheromones!” Frieka gasped, staggering on his big wolf paws, his vocalizer’s indicator lights flashing blue from the thick black fur on his neck. “Choking . . . clouds of lust! For the Goddess’s sake, go find a bunk before you reek up the entire Outpost!”

Nick pulled his mouth away from Riane’s to smile down at the big cyborg beast. “You’re just jealous.”

“And you’re still not married,” the wolf grumbled. “Get it together, would you? I want another cub to spoil.”

Riane laughed and reached down to ruffle his thick fur. “We’re working on it, fuzzy.”

“That’s the Goddess’s own sweet truth.” Frieka rolled his vivid blue eyes. “Sharing quarters with you two is like being trapped in a porn trid.”

Dona held up both hands in a warning gesture. “Okay, that’s it. I just don’t need to know any more.”

Her gaze slid toward Alerio, then darted away. Was it his imagination, or had longing flashed across her face?

Seven burning hells, he didn’t have time for this. He had a report to make if he wanted to keep anybody else from dying.