Operation Hydra (27 page)

Trey jerked against her, shuddering as release claimed him. Unlike her first nearly violent climax, Krysta’s second unfurled gently, spiraling through her body in ripples of liquid heat. She sighed, feeling sleepy and replete.

Careful to keep their bodies joined, Trey released her legs and rolled them to their sides. He pulled her leg up to circle his waist and slipped his arm under her neck. Krysta groaned. Their bodies joined together intimately. She relished the fullness of him still thick and undeniable within her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered into her hair.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I got a little carried away there at the end.”

“I love it when you get carried away.”

He kissed her, slowly, gently. When he pulled back, she silently searched his features, trying to understand the unexpected change in his mood.

“I’m glad,” he said, but there was no mistaking the sadness in his amber eyes.

Falling.
The sensation was pleasant at first, a gentle tickle in her belly. Krysta sank through the darkness effortlessly, but she was gaining speed. Flailing her arms, she searched blindly for something to slow her descent, to break her fall.

Plummeting now, she fought against panic. If she didn’t find a soft place to land, she would die. The impact would smash —

She collided with something — anything but soft. Thick arms banded her, cradling her against a muscular chest.

“Trey?” she whispered.

The darkness cleared, and she could finally make out his face. A tiled corridor stretched in both directions. She looked up, but all she could see was tunneled out earth and exposed utility pipes. How had she fallen into this corridor? How had Trey known where to be to catch her?

“Hurry.”
Setting her on her feet, he took her hand and ran.

Down one corridor, then another, around a corner, down steep metal stairs.
What was this place?

“Where are we?”

“Hurry,” was all he said.

She tried to keep up, but his legs were so long. Smoke swirled around them. She coughed but kept running, frantic and afraid. Perspiration broke out on her forehead and made her hand slick. She grasped him tighter.

But the smoky current still swept him away.

“Trey!”

Batting her hands back and forth in front of her face, she searched through the haze. Heat radiated from all around her. She couldn’t see the flames, but she could hear the crackle and smell the smoke.

“Trey!”

Some unseen force dragged her body upward. She twisted, fighting the sensations this time. Trey was down below. She wanted to be where he was! Faster and faster she ascended. She screamed. She wouldn’t lose him now. They had only just found each other.

She burst through the floor in the treatment chamber.
The one where her mother had died.
Krystabel waited for her. A ring of fire surrounded them.

“Mama?” she sobbed, not believing her eyes.

The sweltering heat made it hard to breathe, hard to concentrate. She reached for her mother, but her hand passed through the apparition.

“You must pay attention, Krysta. I cannot maintain this link for long. So much will happen that you will not understand. You will feel like he has won, but that’s not true. That was never the case.”

“Mama, where are you? Are you alive or some sort of spirit?”

“Krysta,” she said firmly, “listen. No matter the cost, you must protect the child. He is my only chance.”

“What child?” Krysta asked. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

The circle of fire tightened, forcing them closer. Krysta could see through the apparition now. She longed to wrap her arms around her mother, to hug her tightly, to feel the security of that nearly forgotten embrace.

“Once Belle returns her energy to you, all will be made clear.”

“What?” The image faded. “What does that mean? Wait!”

Krysta sank to her knees. Her lungs burned and her eyes stung. What had she meant about Belle? Covering her mouth with her hand, she gasped for breath. Flames consumed the air. The heat…

* * * * *

“You will find that the ones who are broken are the ones still refusing to bend. Despite all the words that are spoken, fire and death will win out in the end!”

Krysta’s clear voice snatched Trey from sleep. He sat up and pulled her into his lap. Her eyes stared straight ahead, clouded and sightless. Her face was ashen, her lips bloodless.
“Krysta.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Come on, sweetheart, come back to me.”

She shook, unresponsive to his voice.

“Krysta,” he said louder, but her eyes remained opaque, their swirling completely stopped.

Something was wrong. Something
Mystical
was wrong. He dragged on his pants and yanked the sheet from the sleeping station, quickly wrapping Krysta in it. Not caring if he woke the entire ship, he opened general coms and called for Gerr or Drakkin. It was early, not yet dawn.

The privacy buzzer sounded, so it had to be Gerr. “Enter,” he called impatiently, stunned when his brother Tal glided into the room.

“Little brother, I don’t care how or why, I’m just so damn glad to see you.”

Tal looked at the woman on his bed and moved farther into the room. “What did you do to her?”

Trey let the jibe slide, too upset to care about anything but Krysta. “She woke up like this. I think she had another prophetic vision, but why won’t she come out of it?”

Moving to the sleeping station, Tal assessed her pale face. “This is Krysta, the woman from Charlotte’s vision.”

“Can you — fix her?”

Tal chuckled at the phrase. “May I touch her without your complete overreaction?”

“Probably not.
But I’ll put my hands in my pockets.”

“Better still, go put on some clothes.”

* * * * *

“Krysta.”

She heard her name, but the voice was unfamiliar. Why did a stranger know her name? She stood in the courtyard surrounded by the charred ruins of the Center. Smoke-blackened and cracked from the heat, the dome no longer imprisoned her. But she had nowhere else to go. She turned to see who had spoken her name. He wasn’t a stranger after all.

“I know you,” she whispered. “I mean, I’ve seen your face before.”

“Have you?” His accent was a bit more pronounced than Trey’s, but she recognized it now as Ontarian. His angular features looked much as the picture disk portrayed them, his clothing a darker shade of gray.

“Are you Tal dar Aune, Trey’s brother?”

“I am, and you are my life mate’s niece. I am glad you are not afraid of me.”

“Why would I be afraid?”

“Do you know where you are? How you got here?”

He strolled toward her, his smoke-colored robes rippling in the breeze. His raven-black hair, coiled neatly down his back, swayed like a thick length of rope. Everything smelled like smoke. What happened to the fire? How had she survived? She couldn’t hold onto one thought. Her mind was muddled. “Why don’t your eyes swirl, if you’re Ontarian?”

“Like Vee, I am a shapeshifter. Would you feel more comfortable if my eyes swirled?”
As he asked the question, his eyes, an intense combination of gray, blue and brown, slowly begun to spin.

She smiled. “Where am I?”

“This is called the metaphysical plane. It is the region inside your mind where your Mystic abilities are accessed.”

“Oh, the dream… but it wasn’t a dream was it? It was a vision. Did I have another vision?”

“Can you not remember?”

She scrubbed her face with her hands, backing away from him. “Where is Trey? I want Trey.”

“I will take you to him as soon as you are ready, but first we must figure out why you ended up here.”

“I just got lost.” She voice shook. “Can you lead me back?”

“Something frightened you. Running away from it will not help. That is not the Mystic way.”

“I’m not a Mystic.”

He smiled and extended a long-fingered hand. “You are luminous with Mystic energy. There can be no denying what you are. When you are ready to tell us what frightened you, all you need to do is speak and we will hear you.”

“We?
You and Trey?”

“No, Krysta.
The Mystics.
Like it or not, you are one of us now.”

* * * * *

He was surrounded by Mystics. Trey’s hostile gaze shot from Gerr, to Drakkin, and finally landed on his brother. Tal had brought Krysta out of her stupor nearly an Earth hour ago and still they waited for her explanation. The Mystics didn’t seem bothered by the delay. They chatted — often telepathically — about recent developments at the Conservatory. Tal wanted to wait until Krysta joined them to explain the reason for his coming, which left Trey as an observer to their conversation.

Krysta walked into the conference room a few minutes later. For the first time, she was wearing one of his crew’s uniforms and he couldn’t help but smile. She had accented the solid black outfit with a wide purple sash, but he had no idea where she’d gotten the colorful addition. Had Dro Tar given her the code to her cabin?

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen,” she said and took her seat beside him. “I have Al and — the other computer person — working on a lead. Hopefully, they’ll have information for us by the time…” She heaved a sigh. “I’m not having a good morning. How do I address you?” she asked Tal.

“My title is Master dar Aune. My name is Tal.”

“Or you could call him Master Tal as do the apprentices,” Gerr suggested.

“I’m not an apprentice.”

Her adamancy made Trey look at her. What had Tal said while they were on the metaphysical plane?

“What do you have Al and ‘the other computer person’ investigating?” Drakkin’s perceptive gaze took it all in with a lazy sort of amusement that made Trey want to shake him. How could he be unaffected by all this?

“I’d like to hear what brought
Master
dar Aune to us at such an opportune moment first,” Krysta countered.

Tal folded his hands on the tabletop, his gaze speculative. “As
Commander
dar
Aune knows, my soul’s mate is unable to risk an interdimensional journey, but I have come in her stead.”

“Why is
High Queen
dar
Aune unable to travel?”

Trey just shook his head. Sarcasm must be one of those genetic indicators Dr. Benjanni had been talking about.

“Charlotte is with child.”

Krysta smiled. “Congratulations, and I appreciate your coming.”

“There was a specific reason for my doing so,” Tal continued. “Charlotte dispatched diplomatic correspondence to the governments of Earth the moment she heard about the crisis. She received polite, but firm, disclaimers from each. So, she went over their heads, so to speak.”

“Over the heads of Earthish governments?”
Trey asked.

“She contacted the PC for FE?” Krysta guessed. “The coalition does have more power on Earth than any one government. But Trey said Ontariese is too far away for our people to interact with Earth on a regular basis.”

“Ontariese cannot be reached by conventional means, but that doesn’t prevent us from influencing the appropriate people.” A faint smile bowed Tal’s lips. “Earth is on the brink of acceptance into an intergalactic market place. Word of subjugation and torture of Ontarians could keep them out for generations to come. In fact, Director Cohn is on his way here, even as we speak.”

Al and “the other computer person” hadn’t located the files Krysta was hoping to find by the time Director Cohn arrived, so she postponed her explanation yet again. The director was a stout man with serious blue eyes. He greeted the Ontarians respectfully, waiting to see how they dealt with the greeting and then following their lead.

“I was most distressed to receive Her Majesty’s message, and what I’ve uncovered since has only added to my regret,” he began without preamble.

“Please, have a seat.” Trey motioned toward the empty chairs on the right side of the table.

Gerr sat beside Tal. Drakkin chose not to sit; he stood on the opposite side of the room, with his back to the wall, pretending to look out the viewport. Krysta observed the men from her position at the foot of the long table; she let Trey carry the conversation as she assessed the director’s words.

“Our office was first contacted by an individual named Vee,” the director said. “Randolph Tor Meter took the report and conducted the investigation. The appropriate reports were submitted and the investigation was closed.”

“Closed?” Trey’s brows shot up. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned slightly forward. “What was the conclusion of the investigation?”

The director cleared his throat. “The conclusion of Mr. Tor Meter’s investigation was that the complaint was unfounded; Dr. Hydran conducted legitimate research in genetic abnormalities. My investigation into Mr. Tor Meter, however,” he rushed on, “revealed that I have a rogue agent.”

“A rogue agent?”
Krysta joined the conversation.

“Yes. Randolph Tor Meter has been working with Dr. Hydran,” the director explained. “Tor Meter is ex-military.
It’s
likely Hydran calls him the general. Tor Meter enjoys the deference, even though it’s no longer deserved.”

The privacy buzzer sounded and Trey called out, “Enter.”

Al ambled into the conference room, but the lopsided grin on his face made Krysta’s heart swell. He wiggled his slightly bushy brows at her, and she returned his smile. Ignoring his commanding officer, Al walked to Krysta and handed her a palm-size vidscreen.

“You found it?” She sneaked a peek at the instructions on the screen. A zing of excitement ricocheted through her body, making her want to dance. “Thank you.” She mouthed the words. He winked, leaving the meeting without uttering a word.

“What’s going on, Krysta?” Trey asked. Every eye in the room was now turned her way. Even Drakkin was no longer pretending to be bored.

She stood and moved to the middle of the table. “As any ex-general is likely to know, the Center was built over the top of a massive military compound. All above ground structures were leveled during the demilitarization of this zone, but anything subterranean was simply sealed.”