Cosmic

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Amusement tugging at her lips, being new on board she concentrated on maintaining a neutral expression in case anyone glanced over while she studied the crew at their stations, assessing their ability to respond to danger and the manner in which they regarded each other. Easy to relax on a ship such as this, but she should figure out which team members might give her trouble.

The curly-haired man—Marshall—barked out orders which the others followed, not with blind faith, but reacting on instinct. In an emergency, they performed well together. Whether this was always the case, only time would tell her.

“So, just who the hell are you?” Marshall demanded, once the spacecraft got underway, and they could divide their attention.

She ignored him, fingers floating in languid sensuous movements along the line of fastenings meandering down from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, down over her navel to her groin. A performance. Seduction. One never knew when, where, and how, one might find an ally. Without looking to see if anyone watched, she eased the tight fabric first off one shoulder, and then the other, rolling each joint. The motion soothed aching muscles, but also made her aware of her body…too much time had passed since she felt feminine. Standing in a vest, she inhaled, deeply aware of the men’s reactions, especially Snake’s, whose eyes popped appreciably. Though caught in many fluctuating and conflicting emotions, she pushed her response aside, her sigh one of pure pleasure, in no way connected to s*x. What began as an act ended with her nothing but glad to be free of the damned jacket.

“You can call me Sela.” She sat on the nearest seat to pull off her boots.

“And why the hell were you on Sarras?” Marshall snapped.

On purpose, she met his gaze, in no hurry to answer.

“We can always turn back and dump you where we found you.”

“If you intend to intimidate, make the threat one you can follow through on. Turn around and fly straight into a battalion of Coalition ships? I don’t think so.”

“There are several planets in this sector.”

“All an infinite improvement, so I will be better off.” She stretched her toes, wriggling them, several sets of eyes watching, Marshall’s brown-eyed stare hostile. The two respective pairs of blue and green held a peculiar interest. Something predatory lurked, but three different emotions came from the three men. The women she struggled to read at all, the dark one equally unperturbed, and the other oblivious to any underlying play. Or foreplay? Sela almost giggled.

Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her trousers and wriggling her hips, Sela fought her way out of the garment. Having been in the suit for so many months, the action was rather like peeling a secondary layer of skin as the material resisted. Cooler air at last rushed in to kiss her thighs, and she bit back a welcoming cry, for the noise would sound too s****l.

She sat, at last, in small, white, skin-tight shorts and a clinging, skimpy vest tented by her n*****s. A strangled noise came from Snake, though he coughed, clearing his throat. Did he recall, recently, three of them all rolling around on the ground together? A hard thing to forget in a hurry.

Her mind going places where her thoughts shouldn’t trespass, Sela fought to erase the images tormenting her. Axel and Snake…both were appealing, and both staring at her. Though she attempted to latch on to some sense of embarrassment, the twinge proved small, undeniably distant. After several months on Sarras, she cared nothing for modesty. If these people couldn’t or wouldn’t understand, she lacked the energy to educate them. Suffering provided proof of the important things in life…and anyone who spent any time on Sarras suffered.

“I repeat,” Marshall persevered, “what were you doing down on the planet?”

She might as well get this over with. “The same thing as you. Trying to grab the transponder.”

Marshall exchanged glances with his crew. So…he failed. No need for him to say so, the fact etched into his expression.

“We went through all that planning for nothing?” The blonde female expressed their exasperation, disbelief weighting her voice, tone weary.

“Astral, I told you we were unlikely to succeed.”

“Yet you insisted we take the chance, and now the Coalition knows we’re in this sector.” This complaint came from the dark-haired woman, voice smooth, calm despite their predicament.

“We can’t hide forever. We must stand and fight!”

“No use in fighting when you cannot win.” The same woman spoke again.

“So we run until we’re too weak to make a difference?” Marshall’s jaw slackened, his gape almost comical.

“I think,” Axel interjected, “what Meliora is trying to say is we should choose our moments, not waste our time.”

“And for all we know, we’ve picked up a Coalition spy.” Astral interrupted the conversation, backing up her declaration with an accusing glare.

Sela smiled at the blonde female’s obvious and instant dislike. Funny how one could sense these things sometimes, and Astral’s antipathy came as no surprise. “I’m no spy.”

“You have yet to explain what you are, though.” Axel crossed his arms as he regarded her, nonchalant, a pose she didn’t buy into. If she made a wrong move, he would stop her.

What about this man nagged at her? Nothing remarkable stood out, though he might catch an interested eye. A fast mental inventory of his features did little to help. Hair and clothes revealed only simplicity and practicality; the fringe cut short enough so as not to impede his vision, but long enough to bring out his best features—those eyes. Yet his features weren’t what called to her. Some personalities were simply dominant. Did this man have any notion how attractive he was? Ordinary and yet engaging—a lethal combination.

“True. I am…was a member of the rebellion.”

“Then why did you attack me?” Snake still sounded upset over this moot point.

Sela gave him her full attention until he squirmed. Hmmm…This one…Strange, almost exotic. Black hair, a slight wave at the ends framing a youthful face expressing a feminine beauty rather than a sense of his age. An odd suspicion made her appraise him as older than her best guess. Brows as dark as his hair set off those green eyes to perfection. The dark clothes hugged him in all the right places, the armbands and knee pads making an outlandish statement.

At first glance on Sarras, she had surmised he didn’t have a clue how to fight, but the way he moved once his survival instinct kicked in proved her wrong. Hard to tell if Snake’s cowering had been a ruse, though his gaze had darted left and right, indecisive. The almost almond-shaped eyes should make Snake appear cunning, but they also made him seem oddly innocent. All that had made her reluctant enough to hurt him, allowing time for Axel’s return and for him to aim his weapon. Easy to recall the white-hot heat flaring into her hand, disarming her. Fortunately, the stunner caused more pain than physical harm, at least on the setting Axel used on her. She knew one thing about Axel now—he was an excellent marksman. No one performed such a fine shot by accident. She retained full use of her fingers as evidence of his skill.

She wanted to stare once more at Axel, but resisted the impulse. The way these men fought together left no doubt something existed between them, but she would be unwise to make any assumptions regarding their relationship. These thoughts took only a moment, but people awaited a response. And she might as well be honest.

“Are you kidding? You’re the first off-worlders I’ve seen on Sarras. I didn’t know what you wanted, or how you got there, and I didn’t care. I wanted a way off the planet.”

“Funny way to cadge a lift,” Snake mewled, “trying to murder someone.” Despite the complaint, his voice sounded rather melodious. Was he truly a coward, or pretended to be? Perhaps the truth collided halfway.

“I didn’t try to kill you, only…”

“Gain some information.” Finishing her sentence, even Marshall sounded amused.

“Right, but I didn’t bet on anyone coming back so soon. Nor did I expect you to bungle whatever you planned so fast.”

Marshall’s expression darkened. So did Axel’s, but his gaze was for Marshall, emotions almost imperceptible and witnessed by no one but her. Sela seldom struggled with subtle nuances in a face, often able to tell when a person tried not to reveal his or her true sentiments. This was one of those moments. Snake…Snake appeared sullen.

“Was a member of the rebellion?” Axel’s question pulled her back on track.

“Well, I still am. At least, I’m against Coalition rule. Like you, a small group of us selected to steal the transponder. We, unlike you, planted our own spy and discovered they planned to set their headquarters inside the underground network on Sarras before they had the institution up and running. We arranged everything before the installation became operational.”

“But that was almost a year ago.”

She didn’t blame Snake for his scepticism. “Eight months, twelve days, and half a dozen or so hours. We organised our attack with care, and we succeeded.”

“Impossible.” Snake took a step closer, scornful. “If successful, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“You mean, we would have stolen the transponder and got the hell off the planet? A fair point, but unworkable. What would be the use in going to all the trouble of appropriating the unit for them to detect the theft and reset the network to another range of signals a few hours later?”

“You might gain a lot of information in those few hours.” Marshall stroked his chin.

“And is that what you intended to do, Marshall?” She stared him square in the eye. “You planned to risk your lives to intercept a few supply ships, or blow up one or two base operations? I congratulate you on your short-sightedness.”

The narrowing of Marshall’s eyes did not go amiss. Neither did Axel’s smile—a mere twitch of his lips. The man schooled his face fast, the blank expression a mask. More interesting factors Sela squirrelled away for a time when these details might prove useful.

“You had a better plan, I suppose?” Axel sounded bored.

“Of course. We never calculated on stealing the original. Instead, we copied the components. We intended to make our own.”

“To sell?” Astral asked.

“No. To use.”

Astral looked doubtful, Snake glancing between the two of them. “Why sell?” he enquired.

“Because anyone with a copy of the Coalition’s transponder could intercept all outgoing and incoming messages. Such a thing would be priceless to the rebellion.” Axel’s sardonic voice rolled over Sela.

“Is it possible?” Marshall directed the question not at Sela, but at Axel.

“Sure, yes, but to get those types of circuit readings…” He shrugged.

“You would need sophisticated equipment and enough time for the calculations. We had both, and, as I told you, we succeeded.”

“They would detect the break in, eventually.” Marshall paced. “They would have taken Bio-readings and registered intruders. Granted, you would have more time, and be able to make a fair few, well-planned and well-placed attacks.”

“Not our intention at all. We had no interest in making hit and runs. We intended to make our assaults rare. Too many strikes in too small a time would only make them suspicious. They would change the signals even without proof anyone touched the transponder.”

“And they don’t change them regularly?” Meliora asked.

Sela shook her head. “No. And it’s a good thing for those against them. The only reason they don’t, barring a confirmed threat, is the complicated work involved updating all the receiving units. A receiver might be good for…oh, three or even five years.”

“I’ve never heard that,” Snake said.

“And you wouldn’t. You…um…need inside information.” Not something she wanted them to linger over but it might sound questionable if she skirted the issue.

“Won’t they reset it now Marshall’s failed?”

“A good question.” Sela smiled at Snake while enjoying Marshall’s glower. “But the emphasis is on failed. They’re arrogant enough not to bother.”

“So, to collect the schematics, you planned a suicide run.” This comment came from Axel. He supported his statement with one of those trademark grins. The grin won her over.

Sela nodded. “We accepted some of us would need to give our lives, allow ourselves to be captured, so they would think the plan failed. While busy congratulating themselves, one of us was to get away.”

“What went wrong?”

“Simple computer failure. Our escape ship let us down.”

“Yet there had to be two crafts.” This from Axel again, and, damn, but she had a thing for intelligent men.

“Of course, so they would believe no one survived. Alas, we used a solar sail for our getaway, and they’re unreliable.”

“So why use one?” Astral asked.

“Because a solar sail would be the one craft undetected by their sensors.” Yet again, Axel provided the answer.

“Exactly. We faked a collision at the point of arrival to explain the Bio-readings. Alas, one man with me received severe injuries during the attempt.” Sela shrugged, making light of those events. “The best plan can go wrong, especially when you’re trying to make a crash convincing. Our comrade grew sick from infection. We intended to hide out until we collected the transponder details from our informant. The infection…complicated matters.”

“How so?” Marshall asked. “If the scheme entailed only one of you escaping?”

“My companions were to make a raid on the installation, blow up a few areas, make it appear as though they gave up hope of escape in favour of a desperate attempt to take out some personnel with them, possibly cripple the base. In reality, the strategy was a careful, prearranged attack so none of the technicians would come to harm. This to create a distraction at an agreed time to meet with the informant. However, with one man sick, they struggled to carry out the mission.” Sela paused not liking the next part.

“As an alternative, they pretended to ask for help, plead for mercy, although we all understood that meant torture and execution. Both men consumed a timed substance, so they expired before inquisitors could work too hard to pry any information out of them, before they…suffered too much.” Expired. A neat way to describe suicide if ever she heard one. “The base of the poison came from a deadly indigenous plant so as to make it look like an accident. A result of foraging.”

A weighty pause ensued, the crew’s respect earning hers.

“During the search, our informer got the details to me. My job was to hide with the readout for the transponder. These readings our spy took for us but, unable to smuggle the information off the planet by any other means, I was then to make my escape, alone.”

“Why you?”

Sela didn’t like the contempt in Marshall’s tone, but Axel stole her opportunity to answer. “Weight. To lift off, the lighter the person, the better when operating a solar sail.”

If she hadn’t liked the derision in Marshall’s voice, the sneer which settled around their leader’s mouth positively made Sela bristle. If he made a crack about her weight…Once more, Axel broke into her thoughts.

“Aside from weight, to fly a solar sail takes a skilled pilot.”

Did he compliment her piloting skills? If only through the knowledge of the type of a pilot the craft required? Even so, she accepted the tribute.

“The ship which crashed, the design was for two, and they captured…and killed, two.” She spared a thought for the men who sacrificed their lives.

“Who would volunteer for such a mission?”

Perhaps something in her expression had prompted Snake to speak, but his sincerity made her answer. “Men dying of terminal illnesses. Still, it takes courage to shorten your life willingly.” At least her reply received appreciative nods.

“Soon after, the Coalition stopped looking. They didn’t realise a third person existed, and they never did more than a cursory search. If they detected my presence at all, Bio-readings aren’t the most reliable and other creatures on the planet, particularly in or close to the swamp, muddle readings.”

She almost shivered at the memory of the many legged unpleasant things in the desert, too. Nothing to gain by wallowing, but a few dreams might plague her. The colour of the suit hadn’t helped—a direct result of the garment’s survivalist capabilities—as the black made her stand out against most of the planet’s bluff landscape. Like a beetle, perfect for stomping or chomping on.

The costume only blended with the landscape in one place. In the watery areas on the otherwise desolate planet. Swampland. Blending in there proved equally important, as the things which might spot her in the swamp would likewise bite if not eat her, no matter what she wore. Still, the need for nourishment made her venture farther to the more hospitable desert caves. Sela had preferred to live in them for short periods, despite the increased risk of detection.

The safest place on Sarras was not safe at all, same as being a scientist or military personnel who worked underground could never be the best, most secure occupation in the universe. The planet’s many natural ridge lines and caves—though the current occupants had blasted many of the caverns into oblivion—meant enough remained to offer shelter and places to hide. Sela had used these wisely, never staying too long in an area.

She glanced at each team member. Despite the danger of approaching one of these strangers, logically the three men had arrived in some form of spacecraft and any chance to escape such a forsaken planet had been worth taking. Still…now the bulk of her explanation was over, negotiations might prove tricky.

“You’ve been there ever since?” Meliora enquired.

“Yes.” A simple answer, already given, but Sela required a moment as all she had suffered descended on her. What she couldn’t describe was the boredom. Nothing to do but stay hidden, hunt for sustenance. But—she breathed in, squared her shoulders—she had survived, and refused to fall apart now.

“Yes. Though honestly, I never expected to live. It’s hard to survive on Sarras, harder to cling to life and remain undetected. But the best of soldiers can become complacent when things are quiet, and luckily, the Coalition isn’t the best. The first few days were the worst, when they continued to comb the area to be certain. After they went underground, I found some shelter, and I guess my survival suit did the rest.” She kept the facts mild, not wishing to dwell.

“Not much to live on, on Sarras,” Snake murmured without relish. Did she detect a hint of appreciation?

“Not much.” Sela flashed him a rueful curve of her lips, pushing aside the recollection of the things she took to eating.

“So,” Marshall studied her. “You’re telling us you have what we went down there for, on you? What’s preventing us from taking it?”

Sela returned the man’s stare. “You surprise me. You don’t seem the sort.” She risked a wink in his direction.

“If he isn’t, I am.” Axel, naturally, tone implying Marshall might be capable of more than she surmised. And Axel was more than competent. Sela gave Marshall a second glance before addressing Axel. Marshall still made her more uneasy than Axel did, though she replied in a manner both men would respect.

“Don’t threaten me unless you’re sure you can follow through. Regardless, I don’t intend to argue. I’ve no use for the damned thing. Not now. My people would have moved out of the area long ago. I might track them down, in time, but they kept moving in case the plan went wrong. Considering how long it’s been, they would assume the worst. By the time I find them…” She shrugged again, the movement jiggling a breast and drawing Snake’s gaze to her chest, no detectable malice in his interest. “Someone might as well get use out of the damn thing.” For a moment, she couldn’t be sure if she meant her breast or the information. She was so tired.

“What do you want in exchange?” Meliora sounded as though she wished to soothe the situation.

“Nothing much. Food, water, a place to sleep, safe passage. Oh, and somewhere to wash and clean up.”

“Not a terrible idea.” Undisguised derision from Axel.

“Sorry if I offend you.” Fine, so even she was aware of the odour of one who had spent months in a survival suit. “Clean water on Sarras is so rare, if found, you don’t waste it by washing.”

Meliora glared at Axel, stepped closer to Sela. “Come.” She picked up Sela’s discarded gear. “I’ll get you sorted.”

“And here.” Sela rose and, with careful movements, reached for the suit’s jacket. “Perhaps you would like to work on this.”

Withdrawing a small, flat device, tiny enough to fit in one of the many tight pockets, she handed it over to Axel. His eyes flashed at the sight of the recorder storing all the details of the transponder. Though she took a risk, she needed their trust, and this information was the only p*****t she carried. Besides, Marshall was correct in one thing—if they wished to, they could kill her and take the readings. If she enjoyed one last shower and one final meal, she would still be better off than on Sarras. A person stuck on that hellhole without a strong enough sense of survival, determination and resilience would have committed suicide long ago.

“Shout if there’s anything you don’t understand.”

Axel’s mouth drew into a sneer, his aspect contemptuous, softened by a perpetual hint of amusement. Possibly a smidgeon of respect. Refusing to be baited, Sela grinned back, liking his scornful expression.