A Time For Ryda (2 page)

As usual, there was mischief in Peter’s eyes, both frightening and delightful to a young girl approaching her seventeenth birthday. Idly nodding at a sign advertising the private rooms upstairs, he then leaned back, gauging her reaction. Blushing, Eve had taken another sip of wine, nearly dropping the glass. Giving her hand a firm squeeze, his gaze never left her own.

It had been her first time, but Peter was very gentle. Afterwards, staring out at the late afternoon sky, the festive Promenade below in full swing, Eve had told Peter she’d love him forever. Smiling, he’d pulled her closer, saying he felt the same way.

Later they’d walked back down to the street, hand in hand, watching the dolphins cavort about in the river. A few even leapt high into the air, sailing clear over the bridges. They’d kissed long and deep, reveling both in themselves and the golden future laid out before them.

Two months later the Gandian fleet had attacked, without any warning whatsoever. Eve’s parents had decided to flee, bribing their way onto two of the last vessels attempting to escape the Rydian system. Along with her mother, Eve had made it. Her father’s ship had been destroyed.

In the mass confusion, she’d been unable to inform Peter of her escape. Nor, for that matter, had she been certain of his fate all these years, until his name had surfaced in a highly classified TAIN document she’d been handed a month before.

That report identified Peter as a prominent member of the Rydian Resistance. Her mission now was to deliver crucial information to him from the Terran Alliance. Peter knew the exact time and place of the meeting, though he didn’t know the identity of the TAIN operative he was to meet. A very odd reunion, of sorts, was in the making.

But that was the present. For just a moment longer Eve allowed herself to remember that magical time, before the world of her youth had disintegrated. Closing her eyes, she could feel herself as a young girl, standing on this very spot, arm in arm with her beloved. A slow tear rolled down one cheek, soon followed by another.

A rough hand grabbed her arm. “Hey, what’s a hot babe like you...”

Instinctively her hand flashed out, crunching into the soldier’s jaw. Eve then pitched him over her shoulder, catching the trooper square on the nose with an elbow on the way down. Before he even hit the ground the Gandian’s rifle was in her hands, pointed down at his chest. The soldier simply lay there, holding his face.

Laughter burst out in all directions. Glancing around, Eve now saw a squad of Gandian troops surrounding her, weapons casually at the ready.

“Good God, Mort!” one of them exclaimed. “Didn’t you say you were going to teach her something? Looks to me like you just got a lesson!”

“Rydian slut!” Mort mumbled, blood oozing around his fingers. “When I get my hands on you...”

Still breathing hard, Eve jabbed the barrel down into Mort’s chest. “You and all of your buddies put together couldn’t make that happen.”

“Oh, ho!” another soldier called out. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Knock it off, Blaine.” A sergeant strode toward Eve. “Uh, miss,” he began, looking down at Mort with an exaggerated shake of the head. “Would you be so kind as to give Private Vick back his gun?”

The entire unit burst into laughter again. Hesitating a moment more, Eve drew back a step, flipped the rifle to Inactive, and then expertly popped out the power pack. Letting the rifle butt drop down on Mort’s stomach, she then tossed the power pack to the sergeant.

“I’ll bet he shoots blanks anyway,” Eve said, striding quickly away. The soldiers roared out once more, making no move to stop her.

Running down the Promenade, bags trailing behind her, Eve angrily wiped away her remaining tears. The time for sentimentality was done. She had a job to do.

***

EVE SPENT THE next few days getting settled in at Venter University, located in New Colorado, a few thousand miles from Blasaria. Situated in a veritable geological theme park of immense mountains, plunging ravines, and broad coastline, Venter had long been recognized as one of the galaxy’s leading institutions for the study of fine minerals.

New Colorado also boasted the richest dynate lode ever discovered in the history of mankind, formerly supplying dozens of systems. Now the superb Rydian stock, essential for interstellar space travel, was being shipped exclusively to the Gandian home world.

While conditions seemed to improve somewhat outside of the capital city, Eve seethed at the harsh occupation imposed on her native planet. Gandian storm troopers were stationed in every car of the hypertram she’d taken from Blasaria, hassling Rydian citizens on the slightest pretext. Before leaving the station, several people had been thrown off the tram entirely, having failed to produce the proper “papers” when asked.

Though Eve had known nothing of this requirement, her Off-World Identification Pass apparently also doubled as travel authorization. Incredible as it seemed, aliens now had more lawful freedom to move about the planet than native Rydians did.

Venter University itself, though, was almost entirely free of the Gandian yoke. Clearly the occupation authorities had little interest in Rydian education, perceiving no threat in the docile professors and tame student body.

In fact, Venter looked much as it had when she’d visited nearly fifteen years before as a young girl. Strolling about the magnificent mountain-top campus, snow clad peaks falling off to humid beaches down below, it was almost easy to pretend the invasion had never occurred.

It was a relatively pleasant week, and Eve enjoyed firmly settling into her cover as a graduate student. But for the war it might well have been the life she’d naturally chosen. Everyone was very friendly, and she was quickly subsumed into a typical student routine.

Being an Off-World student, unaccustomed to the libertine Rydian ways, Eve could plausibly keep her eager male schoolmates at bay for a little while. As expected, though, her program supervisor almost immediately invited her over to his sumptuous home. A distinguished man in his mid-50's, Professor Hanson had thoroughly probed her knowledge of fine minerals over dinner, followed by coffee and Rodasia leaves in his luxuriant zero-gravity hot tub.

The next morning, while still in bed, he’d outlined a proposed course of study. Later on they enjoyed breakfast on a detached veranda gently drifting over the high mountain peaks. Eve had been genuinely touched by the Professor’s attentiveness, responding politely to his goodbye kiss.

Her appointment with Peter, though, was fast approaching. Opening the decorative stone on her necklace one night (the very same necklace the Gandian guard had inspected at the space station), Eve extracted a tiny, precious spec of dynate. A shady character in town gave her 10 million rydals for it the next day, assuming, no doubt, she’d taken it from the University. Though no such theft had actually occurred, the fence should keep his mouth shut for fear of getting caught with stolen goods.

Saturday morning, after procuring a few items needed for the next stage of the mission, she’d set off once more for Blasaria.

The meet would take place in the Contemplar, a posh and busy café. Of course, an actual face-to-face encounter was extremely risky, but TAIN felt there was no other way. The Gandian authorities closely monitored all Rydian computer and communications systems, and a dead drop required more coordination than could be arranged through enemy lines. Relying on intermediaries also increased the odds of betrayal and detection.

Thus, another example of hiding in the open. With the restrictions on travel and the overall degradation of the city since the Gandian invasion, cafes such as the Contemplar were even more popular than before. Wearing a holo-generated, scoop necked body suit that slowly pulsed through various shades of green, Eve fit in perfectly with the brightly colored, desperately festive young crowd.

As arranged, Peter was sitting by himself at a two-seat table in the center of the room. Idly clicking through a virtual menu by the door, Eve scanned the packed restaurant through its floating, transparent pages.

Peter seemed nervous, almost angrily waving away an attractive young woman offering to join him. Given his lack of professional training, perhaps that was to be expected. However, no one at the crowded bar seemed to be paying undue attention to him, nor did the occupants of any surrounding tables arouse suspicion.

“Excuse me, miss, but you’ll have to wait in line like everybody else.” The hostess planted herself before Eve, hands on hips. She appeared to be from Ryda’s eastern continent, with yellow streaked auburn hair and golden eyes. Also attired in oscillating apparel, streaks of bright blue and yellow faded and reappeared in tantalizing fashion over her firm figure.

“Thank you, but I’m joining that man over there.” As was the fashion, Eve let her own hand casually rest on the hostess’s waist as she brushed past her. While still several paces away from the table Peter looked up, meeting her gaze.

Her former lover had become quite a man. The boyish features were now chiseled, his chest and arms more defined. Still, there was the familiar look of wonder in Peter’s eyes as he stared up at her. It was the same expression she remembered after they’d first met in a special art class, and again as he studied her naked, trembling body in the room by the river. Even now, after nearly a decade apart, his eyes touched a deep, natural part of Eve’s soul, drawing forth the girl she’d been, through the mind and body of the woman she’d become.

How proud of him she was, fighting the Gandian thugs who’d destroyed their world! True, Eve had chosen to do the same, volunteering for the life of a TAIN operative. But perhaps his courage was of a more basic sort, as she had years of professional training behind her, while Peter and those like him had to go it alone. Suffused with a warm, gratifying glow, Eve fully realized just how well she’d chosen eight years before.

“What the hell?” Peter muttered as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Eve? What the hell are you doing here?”

Breaking the spell completely, it was all she could do not to visibly react. This was not good. They were supposed to be friends, happy to see one another. Bouncing down in the chair opposite him, Eve clasped Peter’s hand.

“Peter!” she exclaimed, deliberately raising her eyebrows in warning. “You look wonderful!”

Peter’s mouth jerked up in a taunt smile. “Thank you, Eve, so do you,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Something was very wrong. Of course Peter had been told to call her “Heather,” though he hadn’t been given her cover’s last name. Even for a rank novice, he was screwing this up very badly.

The waiter darted over, a trendy young man in the café colors of blue and yellow. Still holding Peter’s left hand, Eve gave the waiter a bright smile, a happy student meeting her young man in the big city.

“Blue wine,” she ordered, now deliberately looking back at Peter. “With lusatro chips on the side.”

For his part, though, Peter appeared almost ill, his face very flushed. Finally giving another strained smile, he then looked up at the waiter.

Alarm bells were beginning to go off in Eve’s mind. Sensuously leaning down on her own arm, as if to draw herself closer to Peter, Eve was able to see both her contact and the waiter in profile.

The body language was all wrong. It was Peter, the customer, who appeared subtly deferential, while the waiter had an uncharacteristically hard look. In fact, Eve’s former lover appeared almost dazed as the waiter’s eyes narrowed in slight anger.

“Blue wine as well,” Peter finally stammered. Hesitating a moment longer, the waiter left.

Perhaps the waiter was having a bad day? Maybe Peter was simply flustered by her unexpected appearance? But instinct was an operative’s most valuable asset. In one swift movement she raised her head again, sweeping the entire café.

No less than six people quickly averted their eyes, flushed by her sudden movement. The waiter and the flashy hostess were on the surveillance team, along with a pair of men at the bar, and two women a few tables over. No doubt there were others nearby as well.

Revulsion exploded in the pit of Eve’s stomach. Apparently turned by the Vextar, Peter had agreed to set up the TAIN agent sent to meet him.

The wholesome satisfaction of a moment before was now replaced by two competing emotions, the anguish of a betrayed and disillusioned lover, and the cold, calculating fury of an agent sold out by her own side. Brutally, Eve pushed the former aside, knowing it would get her killed, while the latter just might allow her to live through the next several minutes.

At this point, her strategy was obvious. Get a jump on the Gandian thugs and escape, running as fast and far as she was able. The initiative was hers, but only for a very short time. If Eve failed to capitalize on it, she’d never make it from the Contemplar alive.

But first she needed to throw her stalkers off guard, lull them into a false sense of security. Exercising all of her self-control, Eve faced Peter once again. Clearly, he was supposed to elicit some kind of information from her. Otherwise, the trap would already have been sprung.

“So,” she murmured once the waiter had left. “Is the Resistance prepared?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Taking a deep breath, Peter idly tapped the table with his right hand. “We just need to know where and when.”

I'll bet you do, Eve thought. “Am I to give it to you here?”

Green lights flashed over the table. Leaning back, they both watched the drinks and chips drop down from the ceiling before them.

“Yes, yes. Here.” A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “Here is fine.”

Of course, Eve hadn't dared carry a gun through an occupied city, and there’s no way the Vextar would have trusted Peter with anything more lethal than a toothpick. But Eve had a pretty good idea who might be packing, and how she might arm herself on the fly.

Delicately taking a sip, Eve nodded. “I'll be back in a moment. Stay at the table until I return.”

Confusion spread over Peter’s face. He'd been told, no doubt, to keep her seated and vulnerable. “Where are you going? You just got here.”