Space Wrangler (18 page)

“We've got a lot to talk about,” he said, drying his eyes, his voice still catching in his throat. “And we won't always agree. But we need to commit to each other. Here, today, with Trent all around us. We need to promise each other that we'll never let things get so bad—so desperate—again. I don't think I could take it.”

She pulled him close and kissed the top of his head, enjoying the rough feel of his coarse golden hair against her lips. Wasn't this exactly what
she
had been thinking? They needed each other. As family. As their link to Trent. As friends.

He stood up, then pulled her to her feet. Without letting go of her hands, he said, “You haven't mentioned the sentient once since we got here. But I know it's on your mind. The same way marriage is on
my
mind. So how about a truce? We'll concentrate for a week or two on rebuilding what we almost lost, and once that's solid, we start hounding each other again.”

“Marriage?” She licked her lips, surprised. “I knew you wanted sex. Sex for sentient, wasn't that your offer last night? Although,” she added quickly, “I'm really glad we didn't follow through on that.”

“So am I.”

“Whew.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I like the idea of a truce, but I want to be honest too. You're family, and I love you. I want to be best friends with you. But marriage? Sex? I don't see that as part of our future. It wouldn't be fair to you. To either of us.”

Annoyance flickered in his blue eyes, but only for an instant. Then he said, “Fine. In a week or two, you can make that case and I'll listen. But not now.”

“I just want to be clear with you. I owe you that.”

“Fine. Now I'll be clear with you.” Sweeping his arm, he caught a hologram that had been hidden by larger displays and pulled it into view.

Alexia's heart leapt at the gorgeous image of her mother and father, all dressed up and standing with a tiny, fair-haired boy in front of their first house, the place where Alexia would someday be born. Edging closer, she whispered, “Look at Trent. He's so adorable. And Mom and Dad. Wow. Where did you get this?”

“I have my sources.” TJ seemed as affected as she was. “Your mother was tall and fair. Like me. And Roberto had that dark hair and that blissful smile. Together they made that cool kid. It always makes me think: that's what
our
son would look like. We'd name him Trent and he'd make everything perfect again.”

Alexia sighed, remembering Sensie's theory. TJ needed something to fill the gaping void. In some ways, he hoped it would be Alexia, but did he actually dream of becoming a father himself? Doing it right? And as a bonus, his son would be Trent reincarnate.

It was a charming fantasy, and maybe it could even happen for him when he met the right girl. But it was also a subversive concept, wasn't it? An excuse for abandoning the true Trent on the theory that they could just make another one.

“We definitely need a truce,” she told him softly. “Assuming we can avoid the two hot topics for very long.”

He surprised her by adopting a businesslike tone. “I have the whole thing planned out. You'll rest for a day or two, obviously. Stay in bed all day if you want, but have dinner with me at the Trading Post. It'll be good for us, and good for morale. Once you feel stronger, we'll go down to the planet for the grand tour. It's an amazing world down there, Lex. Trent would want you to admire it firsthand.”

“Can we see the Titans again?”

“Nope, too dangerous. Rick's an expert wrangler, but the Sea-Mont pilots don't have those skills, so they just stay away from the trudging fields as much as possible. Plus, we'll take a big transit ship down, then transfer to a small shuttle. Easier to get around that way, but trust me, one thug ramming us and we'd be mincemeat.” His expression grew wary. “You want to see the facilities, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great. And in your spare time you can interview my staff. All of them. As long as you're discreet.”

She shook her head. “You were right about that. The sinkhole is just too immediate up here—too real—for me to treat like a research project.”

“They want to talk to you,” he countered. “About that, about Trent, about you. My office has been bombarded with questions ever since you got here. So do your research and give them a thrill. And get to know the place. I think you'll like it.”

“Enough to stay? To live here? Is that what you're hoping?”

“God no.” He chuckled. “I want you away from this place as soon as possible. Safely through the sinkhole, never to return again. I might even go with you, but that's a discussion for another day. Right?”

“I guess so.” She rubbed her eyes, overwhelmed but in a good, or at least cautiously optimistic, way. If they had just had this conversation that first day—

Then you wouldn't have had your night with Rick
, she reminded herself with a weary smile. And no matter what happened next with TJ and the truce, she would never, ever regret meeting, making love with, and then parting gloriously from the cowboy who had affirmed her search for Trent as he walked out the door.

Standing on the enclosed deck of the
Drifter
, Rick stared back toward the planet Destry, now just a pinprick of light in space. Did he dare turn the ship around and go back?

He had a great excuse, didn't he? Namely, the giant thug that loomed in his peripheral vision. Imprisoned by the tow beam, and lifeless thanks to the fire rained down on it, the robot still seemed enormously powerful. And wondrous in its own way. So much larger than the largest of its kind Rick had seen up till now, it would fetch a huge bounty, ton for ton. The question was, when would Rick collect it?

He wanted to do it now. The perfect excuse to see Alexia one last time. Check on her, make sure she was safe, spend the night with her again.

And then leave again? And what if she and TJ were already sleeping together?

He doubted that. She had lied about being poisoned, and would have followed through with a fake headache for at least a few days. And she had taken Sensie's advice seriously, hadn't she? Until TJ gave her access to the Sea-Mont prototype, Alexia would be sleeping alone.

Unless Rick changed the dynamic. She would welcome the second chance at sex “for the sheer joy of it”. He was sure of that. Maybe she would even beg him to stay. Or to take her with him this time. Then they could spend some real time together.
Really
get it out of their systems before they went their separate ways.

Man, you're pathetic. First you look for a scientifically impossible “second” sinkhole, just to impress her? Now this?

Grimacing, he pulled the small red beacon from the pocket of his flight suit, ready to once again torture himself with thoughts of her. How he should have given this to her as a token of—well, of what? That was the question, and he was ready to wallow in it again for the third time that afternoon when to his shock, the light in his hand came alive, flashing a signal so bright it blinded him again and again as he struggled to think beyond the simple, rhythmic word resounding in his brain.

Alexia…Alexia…Alexia…

Chapter Thirteen

Stunned, Rick strode into the control room, finally managing to shout, “Sensie! Are you getting this? The beacon's flashing like a sonofabitch.”

“Yes, Captain. I am aware.”

He did a double take, confused by her calm attitude. Then he glared in disbelief. “
You
set it off?”

“I am the only entity, other than yourself, that can activate it. You set those parameters yourself, remember?”

“Fuck. Why the fuck would you do that? Are you nuts?”

“You were staring at it.
Again
. As if you wanted it to signal you. And so I made that happen.”

He groaned and lowered himself into his piloting chair. “I almost had a heart attack, for fuck's sake.”

“That makes sense, since you were thinking about Alexia Montoya again, and she has an inexplicable grip on your heart.”

Rocking back in the chair, he closed his eyes and willed his temper into submission. Then he told the computer, “This is all your fault, you know.”

“That makes no sense, Captain. I did not tell you to have sexual relations with Alexia.”

“Sure you did,” he grumbled. “You said that once TJ slept with her, she'd lose her hold on him. And since she obviously had a hold on
me
, I followed that same advice. Thanks a lot.”

“You are not TJ Seaton. He has a void in his heart that can never be filled.”

“So do I.” Rick winced and added quickly, “Or let's just say, I'm not ready to fill it yet. Especially not with someone who needs something I can't give her.”

“I agree.”

“You do?” He sat up, curious despite himself. “So you don't think we should go back?”

“No, Captain. I believe that would make your condition worse.”

“My condition?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Can you believe this? We actually
should
go back to Destry to unload the behemoth. But we can't do that because I can't be trusted to stay away from my boss's girl. So we need to drag the big guy all over the solar system with us, burning fuel and taking up space. It's almost laughable.”

“Yes, Captain. Even I can see the humor in it.”

“So you got a big kick out of triggering the beacon and watching me jump?” He tried not to laugh, but it was irresistible, so he threw his head back and roared. And it felt good.

And sure, it would have felt even better with Alexia there, enjoying it with him. But he was fine—
really
fine—with her being where she had to be.

“You are feeling better, Captain?” Sensie asked innocently.

“Yeah. Just don't do that again. Not
ever.
That's an order.”

“Understood.”

He wandered to the control panel and pulled up their most recent course projection. “So we tow the big guy when possible, but stow him when we're hyper streaming. Which means our cargo space is cut in half. We can fit maybe two more thugs. That's annoying.”

“And the behemoth's weight will affect our fuel calculations.”

Rick nodded. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed wrangling on these trips, but now, with the prospect of only two or three more hunts over a period of months, he knew he wouldn't be able to resist a few tussles even if he couldn't cash in on them.

He could carry unlimited infodroid skulls, of course, but there would be thugs protecting them, so he'd need to do some serious wrangling in any event.

“I have a suggestion, Captain.”

“Let's hear it.”

“We should sweep this area one last time, just in case the behemoth was protecting something significant, like a group of nymphs, or even a single nymph with an oversized capacity. But after that, there could well be unexpected opportunity when we reach the asteroid ring.”

Rick laughed. “Other than the opportunity to get pulverized when we try to navigate it?”

Sensie was undeterred. “I have long wondered whether debris from the destruction of Destry and its satellites may have worked its way outward. If so, it is logical we might find some bio-metal trapped in the asteroid ring.”

Rick's pulse quickened. “That's brilliant. Why didn't you mention it sooner? If we can find scraps there, we can fill the spaces in the hull where a thug wouldn't fit.”

“Precisely. It is only a theory—”

“Yeah, but it makes sense. No human has explored that ring in detail, so small debris could have been overlooked.” He chuckled. “You'll turn me into a scavenger yet, Sensie. That's what Alexia called me that first night at dinner. Now it's coming true.”

“Perhaps you should return to her if she occupies your thoughts so completely,” the computer scolded him. “The asteroid ring is the most dangerous phenomenon in this solar system. You will not be able to navigate it successfully, even with my assistance, if you are daydreaming.”

Rick eyed the monitor fondly. “I'll get over it soon. She told me point blank she was going to sleep with TJ eventually, then go back through the sinkhole. It hasn't happened yet, so I can still imagine one last night with her. But in a few days, she'll either be with TJ or back on Earth. That's a deal breaker either way. So bear with me, okay?”

“Always, Captain.”

He flashed a genuine smile toward the console. “Thanks, Sensie. You're the best.”

The tour of Destry never materialized, but Alexia didn't really mind. TJ's aversion to traveling in ACTs was actually a comfort, reminding her that his father, David, also feared such travel, whether by ship or, more terrifying, through the dreaded sinkhole. Ironic, since he had funded the discovery and implementation of that phenomenon, and now profited from it at obscene levels.

True to his word, TJ gave her full access to his staff, not just those who worked the platform, but the roughnecks who rotated up from the planet for R&R. She quickly discovered his claims were true. These folks were dying to talk to her. They didn't just want to share their sinkhole experiences, they wanted to talk about Trent. And Roberto. And Alexia herself. They explained, often haltingly, how the Montoyas had inspired them. Shaped their futures. They had read
Kingdom of Geeks
and
Prince of Geeks
dozens of times, internalizing the vision. The dream.

A surprising number of Destry workers had actually met Trent, and Alexia savored those stories most of all. The engineers and astrophysicists who had worked alongside him in the early days of the sinkhole revered him in a special way—like a god, yes, but also as a fallen comrade. Someone who had joked with them, brainstormed with them, built this remarkable place with them.

And so, even after Trent disappeared—even after the engineers and astrophysicists accepted the loss—Trent Montoya lived on in their hearts. In their loyalties. And in their stories. Stories that invariably reduced Alexia to tears. Which made her all the more grateful for her new friends, the bio-girls.

Not a single bio-girl had ever met Trent Montoya, although many of them, especially Lana, swore they would give a nipple just for the honor. Basically, these young women, who weren't allowed to remain D-side for longer than three years, just wanted to make money, have fun, experience something novel, and forge friendships that would transit the sinkhole with them and last forever.

There had been a time, years ago, when Alexia had had those sorts of friendships. Laughing, teasing, gossiping, confiding. But after Trent's disappearance, those relationships had dried up, one by one. Some so-called friends had been insensitive, earning themselves a quick dismissal. Others had been inordinately supportive, but eventually, each and every one committed the cardinal sin of whispering in tentative, apologetic whispers that Alexia should move on.

To her humble delight, no worker on the D-side platform felt that way. They got it. Maybe they personally believed Trent was gone, but to his sister, they were nothing but affirming. Not like Rick Gage, maybe, but still, it seemed as though everyone here sincerely craved a miracle when it came to the survival of Trent Montoya.

Was it self-serving? Sure. Every one of these men and women had a sinkhole transit in their future. They needed some hope that rescue was possible, even though none of them really believed it. It was some sort of group delusion, but compared to what Alexia had experienced on Earth, it was heaven.

And so, as she waited for TJ in the Trading Post on the tenth night since her arrival on the platform, she felt complete. She had her best friend back. She had new friends. She finally understood her brother's vision, at least to an extent. And if she could just convince TJ to give her access to the sentient? Then she would have everything she needed.

And if not, she still had possibilities, thanks to Rick. Romantic possibilities and practical ones. And yes, the romantic fantasies had dominated her free time. Especially at night. Rick appearing in the penthouse doorway for a second one-night stand. Rick assaulting her with passionate affection in the shower. Rick as a tall, handsome wrangler—complete with buckskin coat and riding a pure white stallion—galloping into sight while she innocently tended her father's vegetable garden at their modest Los Altos home, where he would whisk her up into the saddle and carry her off to Monterey to ravish her on the beach.

He had jump-started her sexual appetite, and she loved him for it. But he had made a practical contribution as well by alerting her to the importance of relays in the design of sentient computers. Maybe she could capitalize on that with the help of Lorenzo Nolo and porn-loving Barbary. She'd be careful, so Sensie's true identity wasn't revealed, but still, this was a new path, wasn't it? Especially if they could recover a discarded relay from Prototype #1. Sure, it had been an abject failure, but the underlying science had been sound. And maybe some wealthy collector had scooped up a component or two for his collection, never realizing the priceless nugget he or she had scored.

She?
Alexia grimaced.
That's the danger, right? If Misha got her hands on it, you're screwed.

But if Misha had done that, Alexia would know by now. They kept tabs on each other due to their contemptuous rivalry, and the scientists at Alexia's nonprofit research company hated Crosse Enterprises with a white-hot passion.

“Hey!” TJ appeared out of nowhere and planted a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “What's with the scowl? Did I do something wrong?”

“You're perfect,” she assured him, pleased he had traded his usual suit and tie for jeans and a navy-blue polo shirt. What a doll. No wonder the bio-girls loved him.

She had wondered at first when they raved about their boss. Were they like Lana, just telling “management” what it wanted to hear? But even Lana adored TJ. The contrast with David the grouch; his even-handed treatment; the generous bonuses he gave them; the lusty way he reached out to every bio-girl more than once during her tenure; the way he had plucked Barbara from their ranks to replace Gabrielle. And last but not least, the way God had gifted him with sexual prowess on a truly gratifying scale.

Alexia always felt a twinge of regret when she heard about that, but the bio-girls raved about Rick too, and also about a handful of other guys. And to their credit, they didn't judge completely on superficial criteria. Respect and gentleness counted for a lot to them. Of course, once Alexia saw how they used the salt shakers in the Trading Post, stacked one on top of the other, to illustrate a man's endowment, buttressed by layers of napkins where needed to display girth, she honestly couldn't take them seriously anymore.

Especially Lana. Unlike Jamie, who wanted an education and some business acumen; or Barbara, an aspiring actress; or even Kai, a people pleaser who had been orphaned as a toddler—Lana just liked men. If she could be paid for that proclivity, even better.

Alexia had no doubt Lana would have been her brother's favorite had they been D-side at the same time. But Lana only had six months left to her stint, so if Alexia didn't get moving soon, that hilarious pairing would never take place.

And for the moment, TJ was her primary concern. It was time to end the truce, confident that they had mended every fence, cured every wound, and established a new and stronger bond that would last for the rest of their lives.

“How was your day, Lex?” he asked, sitting across from her and accepting a double shot of whiskey from Kai.

“I had so much fun,” she admitted. Then she took a long drink of her fizzy Cointreau and cranberry and admitted, “We need to talk.”

“It's only been ten days.”

“A great ten days, but my brother's waiting. We need to find him.”

TJ's blue eyes clouded. “I can't, Lexie. Dad would fire me.”

She studied him closely. “I know you guys don't get along, but you're his son. His only heir. This will all be yours someday—”

“He'd fire me. We'd both be deported. And trust me,” he added dryly, “I'd almost welcome it. We could sell your forty-five percent of Sea-Mont and start our own company. The best minds in the world would flock to us, and within ten years, maybe five, the old man would be the proud owner of nothing. But we have to be practical, don't we?”

Her brain vibrated with confusion. Apparently he had thought this through! He almost sounded as though he wanted it to happen. And a part of her wanted it too. But ten years? Even
five
was too long. They could build a newer, better company but it wouldn't have the licenses that controlled the sinkhole.

And it wouldn't have a sentient computer.

“Don't look at me that way,” he told her stiffly. “I know it's not an option.”

She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry, so she took a quick sip of her drink then managed to insist, “It's an amazing idea. But it would destroy us. You see that, don't you? He's your father. You can't go to war with him. And my entire strategy is to preserve the status quo. Can you imagine if Trent came home only to discover I sold his rights to Sea-Mont? The company he and Dad built?” Her voice started to shake. “And we need the sentient. You see that, don't you?”