Replicant: The Kithran Regenesis, Book 2 (2 page)

I slipped the NED back into my pocket, thinking of the first Replicant I met—the very creature responsible for my life now. If he hadn’t kidnapped me and chained me in his cargo hold seven years before, I would have died on Kithra with everyone I loved. No one knew what had happened, what had caused the explosions to rip through the mines threaded beneath the surface of my planet. Those not killed in the actual blasts hadn’t survived the release of poisonous gases that infiltrated broken tube and pod systems built aboveground.
In a day, most of my race was gone.
There were some of us left, those who’d been scattered in the huge system of galaxies—I’d heard of survivors. But I’d run into none in my travels. Of course, I never stayed anywhere for long.

My only reason for living now was to catch as many of the Replicant outlaws as I could. There were other Trackers good at catching Replicants, but most wouldn’t take the jobs because it required patience to monitor the shifters. The ones on the run were careful not to change into their own forms where others could see. With the last one I caught, I’d skirted the law and broken into his house every night. I hid, watched and waited. And I took him down the second he reverted to his natural form.

I should have died with my people. All I had now was the joy of the hunt.

Anticipation boiled in my veins. I looked around the small space and decided sleep could wait. Sometimes these docking stations had layover visitors or even decent station prostitutes. I was in the mood for some meaningless sex with a stranger.

Chapter Two

Egan and Lux were nowhere to be found, and the other four men I’d encountered so far on this hunk of rock reminded me of Earth 3 mutts. I had higher standards. Restless, I prowled the sorry excuse of a supply station. Granted, it was in a growth spurt now that about twenty people were living and working on Kithra and this was the closest place to store supplies. But it held no bar, no store—only a few bunk rentals, warehouse storage and a docking area. I headed in that direction.

I found exactly what I was looking for when I spotted blond hair and nice, big arms. I hitched a little extra swing in my walk, eyeing the broad-shouldered man as he stacked crates from a hover dolly onto the platform next to the loading ramp of the ship. I hesitated momentarily upon seeing the ship, but the male thankfully grabbed my attention. He moved with grace for such a big man, his body wonderfully toned. Strength rippled in the muscles of his forearms as he hefted crates. The only downside was the happy, friendly look to him that would normally have sent me striding in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, seeing Egan and Lux had awakened dormant feelings, and I knew of only one way to squash them.

He quit stacking when he caught sight of me, watched me walk all the way until I stopped. Close. Friendly face aside, that body of his was getting all my working parts in the right order, and I traced a line from one big shoulder to the other with my finger.

“How long are you on the clock?”

“Kind of direct, aren’t you?” He narrowed his blue eyes and I caught something not so friendly behind that gaze. “No clock. We’re heading out early and my crewmates disappeared somewhere, so I thought I’d ready the load early. You the new mechanic we’re supposed to be picking up?”

“Do I look like a mechanic?” So he didn’t work on the station; he was going to Kithra too. This could work.

“Sorry, I hadn’t realized The Company would have sex workers on a supply station this small.”

Real laughter spilled from my throat. “Now I’m insulted. I am indeed the mechanic—not a station prostitute.”

He ran his gaze over the red and black skin suit, the open jacket of which revealed the tight strip of black material I wore over my breasts. “My mistake on the profession, but I’m too old to mistake a come-on like that.”

I stepped close, inhaled to find the scent of man so much more intriguing than the overriding odors of grease and soldered electrical wires in the rather small loading section. Don’t know what he called old on his planet, but he only looked about thirty-five. “Oh, I am coming on to you. But I’m after some fun. Sex, not money.”

“No thanks.” With that, he dismissed me and moved back to the stack of crates.

Grinning over the challenge, I let my jacket fall open more and stepped in to press my breasts against his back, loving the sound as he drew a hard gulp of air into his lungs. “I’ll have you back loading crates before you know it. You won’t regret the break either.” I ran my hand around his waist, flattened my palm on his belly and tried not to suck in my own breath at the ripple of hard muscle I found there. I did like a nice, tight belly. “No strings, just a little fun to take the edge off.”

 
He turned, grabbed my arms and actually picked me up to set me away from him. “I’m not feeling edgy, so again, no, thank you. There are at least four Gwinarian men and two women on planet who will be happy to jump on your offer.”

His strength was even more of a turn-on. I’d gotten laid plenty of times over the past seven years, but my true libido had been set to just past numb for all of them, so I’d let that part of my life slip away lately. I stepped close again, suddenly curious about whether this human could inspire some of the old flames I’d felt before my world had gone dark. Stretching on my toes, I rubbed my cheek over his chin. He hadn’t shaved. I lightly ran my lips over whiskers, loving the masculine, spicy smell of him, feeling a stirring in my gut that had me trembling in anticipation. “Sure I can’t change your mind?” I glanced down to find a nice, thick ridge filling out his blue flight suit.

He suddenly relaxed, and I looked up to find true concern shadowing those pretty eyes of his. Disconcerted, I hastily stepped back, curled my lip. Was he feeling sorry for me?

“Lady, you obviously need something, and there are a few other men on this dump who will jump—possibly a few at the same time. I’m in a committed relationship, so it’s a no from me. I don’t cheat.”

I stared at his crotch, which was most definitely saying yes.

He looked down, and something fluttered in my belly at the suddenly dazzling white of his smile. It transformed his entire face, lit up the dingy loading dock. “Yeah, ignore that. You’re gorgeous despite the interesting haircut, and my imagination works well—especially with all those Gwinarian pheromones you’re putting out. I also haven’t seen my fiancée in over a month. I’m sure you’re offering a hell of a good time, so the response is only natural.”

He wasn’t having just the normal male reaction to a female’s body. I could sense it, just as I could sense deep in my core that something about this man really pulled me in. Especially if he, as a human, could sense the pheromones. I had every intention of exploring the feelings more, but I’d have a few days on Kithra. There was time. “She’s a lucky woman. Gwinarian?”

Someone tapped my shoulder. I flinched because I’d been so focused on the human, I hadn’t heard anyone approach.

“No, Maska isn’t Gwinarian, Jarana, so you might as well give up on the idea of her sharing.” Lux, now dressed in Earth denim and a sweatshirt, walked up and hefted one of the crates. She had a red spot on her neck where Egan had obviously put his mouth. For a while. She winked at the blond. “Damn, Erik, you got a lot of these loaded. In a hurry to get home or something?”

“Always.” He grinned back.

“Hundreds of alien races out there, Lux, and you think Gwinarians are the only ones who like to share. But wait, you aren’t Gwinarian…” I shrugged and lifted a crate. “Might as well help. Got some restless energy to burn.”

I was strapped into the second row of seats in the cockpit and grinning like a fool ten hours later. In the seat next to me, Erik paled, shut his eyes tight. “She’s a sadist.”

The straps bit into my neck and across my chest, the force and speed of sharp navigation working to pull my body loose.

Lux made a sexy, excited sound that even Erik couldn’t manage to resist, his eyes flying back open. I had to bite my lip to keep in laughter as the euphoric pilot whipped the ship through the debris fields with the kind of joy I understood all too well. A part of me burned to fly through the fields, but when I thought of what had caused the fields, nausea slammed into my gut.

“Don’t worry,” Egan called out from the copilot’s seat. “That green feeling passes.”

I swallowed heavily, searched my brain for a distraction. “I heard new gushers formed on planet during the explosions. How is that hampering the rebuild?”

“We haven’t had an explosion near the surviving pod skeletons since the first week back on planet, but we shut down all sections over known gushers. The Company sent in a scientist and a volcanologist to map Kithra’s new landscape.”

I wanted to ask if the scientists had figured out the true nature of the explosions yet and whether or not they predicted them happening again, but I was afraid of the answer.

“Brace yourselves, this part is tricky,” Egan warned. “But fast.”

“Tricky and fun as fuck.”

Lux’s muttering would have been funny if my first glimpse of the ruined planet hadn’t stolen my breath and made the nausea worse. But then something wonderful happened as Lux maneuvered the ship toward the docking pod. The numb returned, washing a layer of gray mist over me. I was able to look at the completely obliterated sections of my home city with near disinterest, able to step off the ship and feel the loading dock I’d been on countless times before under my feet without crying. I met Kei, the Gwinarian medic who agreed to show me around while the others unloaded, and I didn’t even feel a spark toward him.

He talked as we walked through dome tunnels, and I barely heard a word. I stopped and put my palms on the clear dome, staring at the blue Kithran leaves, a wondrous explosion of color that picked at the gray fog of my brain. Instead of letting it through, I thought of the history lessons I learned as a child.

No one knew the exact details of the Kithran genesis, but we believed that we came from the same origins as humans. Somehow, we ended up on a planet that was stunning in its beauty and offered drinkable water through filtration, but the early records were vague because so few Gwinarians had lived past thirty. Gases on the surface of the planet permeated everything, turning every edible plant into a slow-working poison. But each generation adapted. Our coloring changed, as did our tolerance for the gases. When my ancestors began building the city of pods and tubes, they adapted the native fruits and vegetables to grow inside greenhouses, making food free of toxins. And though we could tolerate higher levels of gas than the humans, we now lived long and healthy lives inside tubes, domes and pods built high among the massive trees and above the heavy surface gases.

Or…we had.

The pain that slashed through me was fast and razor sharp, but I revealed none of it to this other Gwinarian survivor. I just shoved it deep and turned to find him still talking.

“We have a lot of life pods to repair, but we’ve managed to set up enough for the families that signed on to have their own spaces. You’ll have one to yourself until the next crew comes in—which is about two months. There are three small greenhouses now in working order where we’ve managed to salvage the original, edible adaptations of our native foods. We’re working hard to get one of the big ones ready because a family of Gwinarians who were vacationing on Earth 4 have three botanists.”

I touched a hand to my throat. “An entire family survived?”

He nodded, his smile full of true joy. “Isn’t it wonderful? Three parents—though one has passed since—and three sons and two daughters. All full-blooded Gwinarians. The two daughters are making plans to come in early—one of them is a botanist. They should be here in six months.”

I wouldn’t be on planet that long, but I nodded and followed along like I really did plan to stay and work. I thought of that family—an entire family still together. My heart started to pound, my hands grew sweaty and I blinked and focused on the Gwinarian walking beside me. He would have been my type hands down at one point and, from his expression, would have been interested in scratching that itch I’d had back at the supply station. Which was gone now. Completely.

Kei stopped before we reached the next door panel, tilted his head to the side. His eyes were a dark, dark shade of amber. They looked like polished tiger’s eye stones from Earth. He’d twisted his long hair into a braid—it was a Gwinarian shade of red, but one of the lighter ones, nearing blond. I should have been attracted to the man, and it was plain he was a little offended that I wasn’t.

“Why did you cut your hair?”

I curled my lip, giving him my full attention, which was what he was after, asking such a rude question. “We aren’t friends, so what’s with the personal question?”

“You’re a stunning woman, even with that bit of fuzz on your head, so I know I haven’t hurt your confidence in the least. I’m merely curious because I’ve never met a Gwinarian who would do that to his or her hair.”

“It got in my way.” I narrowed my eyes. “I tend to get rid of things that do that.”

He chuckled and placed his palm on the panel. “I can see you’ll liven the place up a bit.”

Ignoring him, I swept past and eyed the social eating space they’d set up. There were three huge, low tables with cushions surrounding them and piled against two walls. Bench tables with wooden seats lined a third wall. The dome above opened to a stunning mix of blue, variegated leaves and red tawnlet flowers. My stomach growled when I smelled real Kithran food. For a few seconds, I closed my eyes and took in the scents of native fruits and vegetables. Sharp spices, buttery blues and sweet gorvo.