Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) (24 page)

Later, still basking in the glow of an orgasm that had come upon her like their lovemaking, slowly and gently, she turned onto her side to watch him sleeping beside her. Unlike other nights, he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her and held her to him, but had rolled to his back and closed his eyes. He slept, but not before they spoke.

“You,” she’d breathed, her body relaxed and content, “are a wondrous man.”

“I,” he’d answered drowsily, “am no man at all.”

She tried to ask him what he meant by that, but the drink, or the sweet nectar of victory, or simply the late hour and their lovemaking had finally caught up with him. She didn’t have the heart to wake him. He looked like she felt, contented and at peace.

Or she was until he mumbled those words. He’d said them in Godan and they were somehow familiar, but she couldn’t find the reference in her mind.

She was becoming more proficient in Godan every day and was slowly picking up a smattering of Kirku, the more formal language of the Galactic Confederation. Her problem wasn’t grammar or vocabulary. Her knowledge of both was growing steadily. Her problem was speed. One on one, she was fine, but in a group, especially a large one like the one gathered around her table that night, she had trouble following the rapid fire conversation with one speaking over top of another.

She might have heard the words during one of those conversations, but she didn’t think so.

Mira touched the globe of glass that stood to the side of the bed. Dim light filtered across the room, enough to see by, though not enough to read. For that, she’d have to touch it several times.

“
I am no man at all
.”

She watched the man sleeping beside her, wondering how he could say such a thing. She smiled to herself as her eyes took in the long legs, muscular arms, and a torso hard enough to be made of steel. She’d felt every inch of that body and knew what it could do to her own. Too much to drink hadn’t altered his abilities in that department.

“
Even when you know me for what I am and grow to hate me
...”

She was missing something, but what?

Her eyes traveled over the blood markings that her fingers had travelled over before. They fascinated her. The markings were heaviest on his arms and legs and then his sides. There were a few on his back, none on his buttocks or the manly bits up front. They were not all the same design or style and looking closely she could see the handiwork of different artists. She loved the markings, though she didn’t like the reason for them.

Tattoos were popular before the war and Mira, who was always searching for commonalities, saw the similarities between some of the more popular human designs and the blood markings on Roark’s body. Some were similar to Asian style characters made with broad strokes and pointed tips. Others were inked in swirls, waves and curlicues in purely fanciful designs. Both legs, one high on his right thigh and the other below his left knee were banded in designs that were common before the war; one a Celtic knot design and the other of vine and thorns. Another banded design circled his right arm above the bicep.

Not wanting to wake him, but unable to resist, Mira ran her hand over the Celtic design above his knee. The scar felt almost like Mohawk’s, though not as fresh.

Mira’s snapped her hand back to her chest and stared at the circlet of scarring. She wanted to press and prod the limb beneath searching for differences, but knew she’d find none. Mohawk’s recreated limb felt no different than real flesh and bone.

Three circlets on three limbs.

“
I am no man at all
.”

Mira stifled her sharp intake of breath with a hand to her mouth. She knew where she’d heard those words. In his nightmares, Roark called them out along with his string of curses.

The light glinted off the jewel in the mouth of the dragon that circled his ear. It gave the impression that the creature winked.

It was another thing she should have noticed. The dragon was more than decoration. He never took it off. She thought it might be a symbol of his rank or family, but it was more than that. It glowed when he was angry and he had told Bitsy it made him behave.

That dragon was connected to his recreated limbs though she wasn’t sure how. She would have to ask Ahnyis so she would be prepared when she brought the subject up with Roark.

In the meantime, she added asinine to her list of Roark attributes because that’s exactly what he was if he thought those artificial limbs were a reflection of his manhood or would make her love him any less.

Mira fell asleep a little angry that he would think her love would be so shallow.

Chapter 26

Ahnyis leaned over Mason’s back and tickled the edge of his ear with the tip of her tongue.

“It’s almost time for you to go.” Her whisper was followed by a soft breath of air along the wet line left by her tongue.

Mason swatted at his ear like he was bothered by the buzz of a fly.

She pressed her unbound breasts between the scapulae at his back, using them to rub the silk of her nightgown against him. “Mason,” she sang in what she considered an alluring voice.

“Ahnyis, lovey, back off. I’m almost there.”

He shuffled through the papers in his hand. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but it wasn’t there. He started flipping through the folders scattered across the table in Ahnyis’s quarters. He stared at the table, eyes roving over the mess and did a mental count of papers and folders.

He was missing one. He looked around the living area, but didn’t see it, which wasn’t surprising. Ahnyis’s quarters looked like a twelve-year-old’s idea of a seductive boudoir, clashing neon colors and all. There were enough swaths of sheer fabric to fill the rooms of a harem, enough delicate scarves to keep Salome in seven veils for fifty years, and enough lacey ruffles to outfit the full cast for the entire production of
Gone With The Wind
. Twice.

For a woman who dressed in bland clothing and subdued colors like a nun on her better days, and a bag lady on her worst, Ahnyis’s colorful quarters were mindboggling. There wasn’t a single surface that wasn’t covered in something frilly and ornate.

“Have you seen the ration report? The one that details what’s missing.” He kept shuffling through the papers. “Clothing. I’m missing that one, too. And the mileage reports, er, I mean...” His finger spun in a rapid circle and then pointed to Ahnyis as if selecting her from a crowd for the privilege of answering his unasked question.

“Time-distance comparison. TDC”

“Yes! That’s it.”

The way he said it sounded like he knew and she’d guessed the answer correctly.

Ahnyis frowned. Having a lover wasn’t nearly as exciting as she thought it would be. Lovers were supposed to be different from husbands. Lovers were supposed to provide an endless display of affection and an unquenchable desire for sex. Weren’t they? She’d amassed a sizeable library of stories from all over the galaxy that swore to it. The stories were fiction, certainly, but they had to be based on a modicum of truth, didn’t they? Otherwise, why would females continue to read them?

She wasn’t completely naive. She understood that for literary purposes, much of the mundane minutiae of biological function was ignored in these stories. No one ever used the bodily waste disposal units found in almost every cleansing facility all over the galaxy, nor did anyone allow for methane expulsion unless the portrayal was meant to be crude. Crude!

Ahnyis hissed at the ridiculousness. Every creature with an intestinal digestive system eliminated fibrous waste and gases, just as every consumer of organic material ended up with foul scented breath, particularly in the morning. She didn’t know why Mason found it so funny. Prayers to the goddess! He was a doctor and should know better.

The sex wasn’t much better. The windup was terrific, and the delivery was explosive, but it was short-lived. She was coming into heat, for Tyre’s sake, and an hour’s recovery for a mere three hours’ worth of sex seemed excessive. Worse, during that recovery time Mason slept, and once when she’d tried to wake him with a playful little slap, he’d growled at her. She didn’t know humans could growl.

Mason now knew Katarans could, though, because she’d growled right back.

Still, she thought he was the sexiest thing in the galaxy, though she didn’t understand why.

She found the papers he was looking for under a side table dressed in flowing scarves just like in
Clijon Corruption
, the little story she’d picked up at Space Station 2 while she and Vochem waited for the shuttle that would carry them to the Stargazer, the huge starship that carried them across the galaxy.
Clijon Corruption
was so romantic and exciting, she’d delayed going into stasis until she finished it.

The folder she found under the ruffled pillows on the sofa. The pillows were beautiful and exactly like the ones Zoamon and Femice made love on in
Rebel’s Rapture
. Mason said they made him itch and that no one could make love balanced on that many pillows unless they were contortionists. He made a valiant effort, though, and it was fun.

She handed him the folder and her tail just happened to swish up into his lap and just happened to land on his delightful package of genitalia that should bring her hours and hours and hours of pleasure, but rarely did. Human physiology was a mystery to her. None of the medical texts explained Mason’s lack of stamina or his complaint that she made him suffer from blue balls.

Absentmindedly, Mason stroked the tail in his lap and heard Ahnyis purr happily. Her appetite for sex was every man’s dream and he had plans to start working out so he could keep up the pace.

She was a funny little thing. Highly intelligent, she was a rarity among the type of woman he preferred and he enjoyed talking to her when they weren’t fucking like a couple of rabbits. She was part sober scientist, part adolescent Lolita, and part frat boy on a Saturday night with nothing better to do than hold fart and belching contests. God bless the man who found a woman who wasn’t constantly nagging him to hold his gas.

He’d thought about showing her the trick with the lighted match, but thought better of it. Scorching that amazing tail wasn’t his only concern. Between her long winded and malodourous farts and the amount of flammable fluff surrounding them, one lit match could take out the whole damn base in a meteoric display of epic proportions.

He smiled happily. Ahnyis was damn near perfect for him.

“Meteors. Holy shit!”

Mason scrambled for the papers he needed and, except for the map, pencil, and ruler, swept everything else onto the floor.

Ahnyis giggled and clapped her hands with glee. “Oooo, are you going to throw me onto the table and have your way with me? It would be just like the scene from
Dervil’s Delight
.”

“Not right now, sweetcheeks.” Mason pulled Ahnyis to him and gave her a smacking kiss before turning back to his map and papers. “I think I’ve found the missing kids.”

Chapter 27

“Surprise!” Ahnyis and Mason shouted.

Vochem said it, too, but without the enthusiasm. His smile fell into an unhappy frown, before Mason clapped him on the back in an uncharacteristic display of friendliness.

“Don’t look so glum. You’ll enjoy it.”

They were standing beside a skimmer. The open back of the roofed vehicle was loaded with blankets and boxes and what looked like might be a tent. It was difficult to tell since it was rolled.

Mira looked at them as if they’d all gone crazy. A major battle was in the offing. Roark should be making sure that all was going as it should. The healers and doctor should be preparing for incoming wounded, shouldn’t they?

The plans were all hush-hush, of course. Roark, and therefore his troops, weren’t supposed to know, but the dining room had been turned into a war room where one by one, Roark’s officers had met with him. Petrark and his group of handpicked security people had taken up residence in Roark’s office. Harm had been out coordinating training missions with the newly arrived troops since their ‘failures’ were obviously the cause of the recent campaign’s disastrous results. The whole camp had heard Roark’s opinions on that, violently, viciously, and in no uncertain terms. The place was in an uproar talking about it. Still, this didn’t seem like a good day for an outing.

“Are those fishing poles?” she asked because she was too stunned to say anything else.

“Mason has informed me that fishing poles are required for the full enjoyment of a picnic.”

Roark was much louder than he had to be and sounded impatient. Several nearby clusters of soldiers turned their heads. Their First Commander was only loud when he was angry, so their curiosity was piqued. If there was going to be a show of his renowned temper, they didn’t want to miss it, particularly since they weren’t its target.

“You said you wished to enjoy a picnic. I have provided one.”

“A picnic?” she echoed and then, “Are you sure this is a good time?”

“You question my judgment?” Roark roared. “Do you, too, doubt my ability to run this base?”

“Hurry, Mira, before he changes his mind,” Ahnyis called, eyes wide with meaning. “We don’t have all day,” she added, sounding a little desperate. “The children need you...later.”

Both Vochem and Mason gave Ahnyis a sour look, but at her words, the light finally turned on and Mira laughed excitedly. They’d found the missing children.

“Oh! That’s what I was worried about, getting back for the kids. As long as we don’t stay all day, I’ll be fine.”

To emphasize she now understood, she grabbed Roark’s arm for balance as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. The Godan weren’t big on public displays of affection. It would give the base something else to talk about.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” she squealed, “Thank you.”

“Thick as mud,” Mason muttered when they were on their way.

“It would have been nice if someone gave me a heads-up beforehand,” Mira answered. “No one goes on a picnic in the middle of the war.”

“Incompetent First Commanders do,” Ahnyis giggled. “The really sad thing, though, is that the troops were disappointed, but not surprised when the rumor of our picnic started. Petrark said his men had high hopes when Suto wasn’t appointed to the position. They thought Roark would be different, but it turns out he’s the same as the last one.”

Mira turned to Roark who was at the controls. “Are you going to let Petrark tell them the truth?”

She’d met some of those warriors at the hospital and she liked them. She wondered at the time, why they were so enthusiastic about Petrark’s leadership and Roark’s command. She thought maybe they were faking it on her account. She knew better now.

“He’ll tell them at the last minute. We can’t afford a leak,” he answered distractedly. “Time check, Vochem.”

“It should be coming on line in three, two, one, and we’re free of the con tower.”

They were flying east into the morning sun. Roark suddenly banked sharply and at the same time, brought the skimmer low to the ground. They were now headed south.

“Petrark’s sending false data,” Roark explained. “Harm will meet us there.”

“And were exactly, is there?”

Mason leaned forward and spoke over Mira’s shoulder.

“You ever go to that tourist trap about an hour south, off of Highway 53? The Miner’s Den.”

“The place with the rock museum? Dig for gold for ten dollars? World’s largest meteor?”

“That’s the place.”

Mira curled her nose with distaste. “Only once. My parents took us when we were kids. David was a baby. I didn’t like it and it wasn’t anywhere near the largest meteor if it was a meteor at all. I looked it up.”

“Mira the Practical.”

Roark didn’t look at her when he said it, so probably missed it when she stuck out her tongue. She explained to the others.

“They had big displays of rocks and gems and crystals and stuff from all over the world. I wasn’t really interested, but it was okay, and of course, almost everything was for sale. All that stuff was in the big wooden building at the front that was supposed to look like an old fashioned mining town, but the rest was underground or at least made to look like it.

“You had to follow these tunnels and walk through cave-like rooms to get to the gold mine or the gem mine or wherever you were going. There were three or four to choose from. The tunnels and caves looked real, but the gold and gems were all fake. That made me mad, plus I didn’t like feeling closed in and kept waiting for the walls to collapse.

“Outside was pretty nice, though. There were some trees and a big pond with giant gold fish and picnic tables. We spent the afternoon hiking and running around, searching for meteors because the place was supposed to be some big meteor field. I figured the place would be long gone. Is that where they’re keeping the kids? How soon will we be there?”

She started to laugh. “I sound like one of them. Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” It was then she noticed none of the others seemed to share her enthusiasm.

“Some of them will be there, Mirasha, but not all.” Roark spoke quietly.

“Oh,” she said thoughtfully and a little disappointed, “I thought they’d all be in one place.” She forced herself to sound positive. “If you’ve found one group, you’ll find the others soon, right?”

No one answered until Roark reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the backs of her knuckles. That alone had her worried. Roark kept his affectionate gestures private and he rarely touched her in front of others unless they were at home.

“We don’t believe there are any other places, Mirasha. The children we find here will be all that are left.”

“Why? What have they done with them?” she asked, worry coloring her question.

Vochem began to explain about the xoralinium. It was one of the most precious metals in the galaxy. When alloyed with certain other metals it became a nanometal, capable, to a point, of repairing itself. It was created when meteors fell through the ideal atmosphere.

“And Earth’s is ideal,” Mira concluded. “They’re having the children collect the stuff, dig for it, maybe.”

Vochem agreed. “The younger children are small enough that the satellite sensors wouldn’t register them much less question their presence.”

Roark nodded his agreement. “Unless someone looked closely, they would appear as a small herd of wildlife. There would be no perception of danger, but if someone happened to make a notation, a squad would be sent out and report back that it was nothing.” He still held Mira’s hand and he squeezed her fingers.

“There’s more, though, isn’t there?”

“There sure as hell is. I thought it was a sex thing. That’s how I ended up in a cell.” That was Mason. “I was trying to follow a group of captives that were transferred from one squad to another. Yeah, Tomaselli’s group to the real thing, though I didn’t know it at the time. I got caught by another Godan soldier, but he wasn’t one of the bad guys. His name was Miklos.”

“My Miklos?”

“The same. I’d just started,” Mason sighed. “There was a language barrier. Apparently the previous First didn’t believe in educating the masses. Too hard to cheat and steal when any old piece of cannon fodder might figure it out. Miklos, the poor bastard, figured it out anyway and they killed him for it. I didn’t know.”

“When they imprisoned him, they led Mason to believe Miklos betrayed him,” Ahnyis added. “He didn’t know the man died. They probably would have killed Mason, too, if the First hadn’t been recalled to stand before the Council.”

“He wasn’t recalled, Ahnyis. That’s the rumor on the base, but it isn’t true.” Roark told them. “It was a regularly scheduled Home Leave, but several Councilors received garbled messages from him while on the transport confessing to things he’d done wrong.”

Mason shrugged. “After a while, I think they forgot I was there, which was fine by me. I faded into the background.”

“Something I wish you’d do again,” Vochem noted before adding his opinion to Roark’s. “The First’s transport disappears. Did they escape their fate or did fate provide a more permanent solution? Either way, the First looked guilty. Case closed before an inquiry could be opened. Suto was in line to take over. With another pompous ass in charge, business could resume.” He grinned at his friend. “Then fate sent you.”

“My father sent me. Maybe not directly, but he pulled the strings that made it happen.”

“What about the children, Roark? Whatever you think the worst of it is I can handle it.” Mira trailed her finger over the blood marked circlet on his upper arm. “I can handle anything.”

“Vochem thinks the older ones were used to extract the xoralinium.” His hesitation before continuing made Mira’s heart sink.

The others felt it, too. Mira knew by their reaction that the outcome wasn’t good. The idea didn’t affect her as badly as her companions thought it would. From the beginning, she believed the children’s abduction had a sinister reason behind it. She couldn’t allow her mind to entertain the worst case scenario, but the thought was always there, lurking behind the hope.

“Those children are dead,” she stated flatly. It was almost a relief to have it out in the open.

“It’s what we believe, yes,” Roark confirmed, his eyes sliding from the controls to her. “Vochem tells me that while tedious, the method is fairly straightforward. He believes that under supervision, older children could be trained. Extraction is normally done in a laboratory setting under strict safety protocols. Without the proper equipment, exposure to the chemicals and the process itself would be deadly over a relatively short period of time. The chemicals have found their way to Sector Three, but not the equipment. The ration supplies being diverted are not enough to support a growing number of children, thus...”

“How many are left?” Mira asked, and when no one answered, she asked again. “How many are left, Roark?”

“Twenty, perhaps.”

Twenty out of so many.

“I want them dead, the bastards who did this. I don’t want them just to rot in Hell, Roark; I want to send them there.” Angry tears spurted unchecked as she turned on him. “And this time, don’t you try to stop me.”

None of the passengers contradicted her sentiment.

Harm’s voice crackled from the black box that rested in a slot on the console between them. It looked and sounded much like the old fashioned walkie-talkies Mira and Wynne played with when they were small. Roark picked it up and pressed a button before he spoke.

“Go.”

“We’ve got movement at the rear exit on the backside of the hill. There’s an S-class transport down there. They just released the camo-cover and are loading up as we speak. Looks like they’re making a run for it. Orders?”

“Take them down. If you can’t take them down, take them out.”

“With pleasure. Out.”

“It’s an awfully big coincidence that they’ve chosen to leave today, don’t you think?” Ahnyis asked.

“Coincidence? Really, sweetcheeks? Sounds more like you guys need a plumber.”

“The person who fixes leaks,” Mira explained to the confused looks of her other companions. “Who else knew?”

“No one.”

“Tomaselli,” Roark said flatly. “Not the details, but in general. He told us the kids were being used as slave labor, and he knew it was dangerous, but he didn’t know what kind of labor or where.”

“That can’t be. He’s under lock and key, guarded around the clock by Amazonians. Harm chose them himself. They’d never allow themselves to be corrupted by a man.” Vochem shook his head at the impossibility.

“Food.”

“Mason! Now is not the time to think about your stomach,” Ahnyis chided.

“Not me,” Mason said impatiently. “Tomaselli. Find out who delivers the glop and you’ll find your leak. Your Amazonians are watching the door, not the prisoner. Someone like Tomaselli is no threat to them. They could kill him with a flick of the wrist. They’re waiting for an attack from the outside like David’s. It would be easy to smuggle in a pencil stub in a bowl of that shit. How hard would it be to send a note on a scrap of paper or scratch ‘they know’ on a tray?”