Authors: Jessica Marting
Supernova (32 page)
The
vortex. Dr. Ashford had told Fleet about the artificial vortex technology that
the Nym developed, about the open one that currently hovered in a galaxy
neighboring the Milky Way. The route the Nym had taken on their mistimed
mission to twenty-first-century Earth.
The
technology was unstable, hence Zadbac and Pitro’s stranding in Toronto. It
couldn’t be used too often lest it rouse the suspicions of the locals, which
their cruiser did in the days before Lily was kidnapped. The Nym had managed to
get in and belatedly realized they were two centuries too early to begin
rewriting history.
Their
miscalculation in time travel made Fleet think positively. The Nym and their
science were fallible, and already Fleet was working on developing a device to
detect manmade vortexes and wormholes. They could finally keep step with the
Nym’s plans.
“Did
Ashford ever say why he did it?” she asked, evading him.
“The Nym
made the usual promises,” Rian said. “Money. Access to living test subjects.
Lily, you have to tell Fleet sooner or later.”
A vortex
could be replicated long enough for Lily to go home. Files pertaining to the
creation of them had been found in Ashford’s personal effects, and the science
team aboard the
Defiant
jumped at the chance to reconstruct some of the
debris from the Nym ship.
“And how
did the newshounds figure out there was a time traveler?”
“He had
a friend on Rubidge who told someone, also for money.” Rian’s blue eyes were
shadowed and worried. “Pelly Bhackhar. She’s been taken into custody, too.”
Pelly.
Lily remembered being introduced to a curator by that name on station. She
nodded.
“She was
involved with the historical society when you were found on Darcan-2,” he
explained. “The Nym contacted her when you were moved into a traveling exhibit.
She was supposed to keep track of your whereabouts and deliver you to the Nym
so you could be killed.” His expression darkened, and Lily’s hands
involuntarily formed into fists at her side. “She and Ashford were involved
personally, and they followed your movements. She had herself transferred to
the museum at Rubidge when she found out you were going there permanently.
Ashford joined the
Defiant
’s crew only a couple of days before you woke
up—apparently he was quite insistent on that transfer,” he continued. “She
admitted to digging up news clips for you to find in the library at Rubidge.
Zadbac and Pitro brought some of your media back.”
“And
they figured out how to use my phone to communicate our location in space.”
“Yes.”
“I guess
they’re going to undergo mind-wipes?” It sounded gruesome, but still not enough
punishment for the doctor.
He
nodded. “The trial is scheduled to start next week, but the evidence is pretty
damning. Did I tell you that this morning they’ve assigned four teams to
dismantle the old satellites in Commons space? It’s a big job, but they’ll have
it done within a few months.”
Lily
snorted softly. She likely had the one device in existence that could respond
to one of those old satellites, but the Commons was now worried about their
being used for other nefarious purposes. Her cell phone was being held as
evidence, but Fleet had promised to return it. She wanted it back for her
father’s books.
Rian
made as if to reach for her, but pulled his hand back before making contact. “Lily,
what are you going to do?”
She had
already made up her mind but was under orders to give the opportunity serious
thought. “I can’t believe you’re worried about my answer,” she said softly. “I
told you weeks ago.”
“Are you
sure? You didn’t think it would ever come up. You had a life on Earth.”
“I have
a life here, a happier one,” she insisted. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Gods,
no,” he said.
He
clutched her in a hug that squeezed the breath from her lungs. “Rian,” she
squeaked. “My ribs.” He released his death grip on her and held her loosely, as
though he expected her to turn away.
“I’m
staying,” she said. “You’re stuck with me forever.”
“Good.”
He kissed her, his tongue flicking her lips apart. He guided her to the couch
and didn’t stop, his lips tracing a path down her throat while his fingers
fumbled with the buttons on her sweater. “My sister is taking a trip to meet
you, gods help us.”
“I want
to meet your family,” she said.
“I think
you’ll get along. And I have furlough arranged, but not for another seven
weeks.” He sat down and pulled her in his lap.
“Rian,”
she gasped. His hand slid under her blouse. “Are you sure—but don’t you have
another meeting soon?”
“I have
three hours,” he said. He laid her back on the couch and kneeled over her,
making short work of the sweater’s buttons. “I’m meeting with an arms developer
over new weaponry in this quadrant. Arms developers are easier to deal with
than Admiral Brynon.” One of his new bosses.
Lily’s
hands took on a life of their own and unsealed his shirt. “This isn’t the
behavior of a captain,” she admonished him.
“I was
demoted, remember?” he said against her skin. “Mere commanders get away with a
lot more.”
She
giggled and then turned serious. He angled himself up on his elbows, concern
across his face. She didn’t want to see him look worried anymore. “Rian, there’s
nowhere else I want to be than here,” she assured him. “I want my life to be
this way. I love you, and I’ll be telling you that every day for the rest of
our lives.”
For the
first time in days, he relaxed and gave her a genuine smile. “I love you, too,”
he said.
His
hands threaded through hers, and he kissed her again.
Jessica
Marting writes sci-fi and paranormal romance. She lives in Toronto with her
husband and far too many pets.
Connect
with her online:
