© Copyright 2003 Michelle O'Leary
ISBN: 1-932014-

Chapter 1

    “What a mess,” Anya sighed, as she stared at the two holographic people standing on her palm unit. Except catastrophe was a better description. An all out disaster in the making. And these two people were her last slim hope of averting it.

    The problem was, they didn’t seem like the helpful types. The man looked like stone, and the woman had a face cold as a glacier and eyes like diamond chips. These were military holoscans, so they were bound to look stern, but Anya didn’t find their unsmiling faces and hard expressions very encouraging. Searching their rigid features for even the faintest hint of compassion, she didn’t lift her head when the door to the cabin slid open and Jarden floated through, graceful as always, even in zero gravity.

    “Brooding again?” the dark skinned woman asked in disapproving tones.

    Still not looking up from her study of their would-be rescuers, Anya snorted and said, “Can’t imagine why. I’m only a fugitive running from the Telepath Guild, hunted by their crazy-ass assassin and for what? I’ve done nothing to them except be born with a different talent. I also managed to drag my best friends along with me on this wonderful safari, ripping them away from home and family. Why would I brood?” She was unable to stop the bitterness that seeped into her voice.

    Jarden made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and pushed off the door jam, floating to where Anya was snuggled in her sleeping cocoon against one wall. “You’ll give yourself an ulcer, fool.”

    Anya still didn’t look up until the other woman ran disruptive fingers through the holograms, making them crinkle like ripples on a pond. Irritably, she glanced up into her friend’s shrewd eyes, but another voice interrupted before she could growl at her.

    “And guilt is useless, especially unfounded guilt. You flail yourself to no purpose.”

    Anya looked up to where Rie had attached herself to the ceiling—or what would have been the ceiling in normal gravity—and had contorted into the proper form for meditating. Even now she seemed oblivious to her human companions, the blue of her scaled skin gleaming richly in the dim light and her opalescent eyes closed.

    With a wry twist of her mouth, Anya answered them in as dry a tone as she could manage. “So speak Wisdom and Conscience, my two constant, unquiet companions.”

    “Girl, you better moderate that tone!” Jarden shook a stern finger at her as she drifted away, but there was a smirk on her elegant features. Tall and willowy with a cap of dark curls and large, absorbing black eyes, Jarden’s appearance was a far cry from her practical, realistic nature. She had kept Anya solidly grounded on this harrowing trip, and Anya didn’t know what she would have done without her.

    About to apologize for her attitude, Anya was forestalled when Jarden asked, “Where’s Ces?” with a faint frown of concern.

    With a little grimace and a sympathetic clench of her stomach, Anya tilted her head toward the lavatory. In the small silence, they could hear the sound of retching.

    “Poor baby’s gonna turn herself inside out doing that,” Jar whispered with a wince, before looking at Anya with lifted eyebrows. “Still won’t let you help her, huh?”

    Anya pinched the bridge of her nose to hide frustration while she shook her head. There were some people who couldn’t handle zero grav, and Cesna was one of them. She was also incredibly stubborn and refused to allow Anya to relieve her nausea. “She keeps saying I can’t tire myself out on her.”

    “Well, she’s got a point. What if that guy catches up with us? We don’t know what kind of ship he took or if it’s faster than this one. What if he’s already at Far Reach Station waiting for us? You’d be our only protection.”

    Anya looked away from the calm certainty in her friend’s dark eyes with a bitter twist of her mouth. Why argue again? All three of them had refused over and over to leave her…and they did have a point. They weren’t much safer away from her than with her.

    “So what did the captain say?” she asked instead.

    “He said no, of course. I got the whole sob story, too—this isn’t a cruise liner, he’s not even licensed to carry passengers, we’ve got his cabin and he has to sleep with the cargo, isn’t that enough? Why do we need to waste precious energy on artificial grav when we’re almost there?” Jarden snorted expressively before turning a merciless grin on Anya. “He did want you join him for dinner, though.”

    “That damned thief took a king’s ransom to take us to Far Reach! He can buy another ship with what I gave him and he’s complaining about wasting energy? He can damned well spike the grav for a sick woman!” Fuming, Anya hung motionless in her cocoon a moment longer before wriggling out of it with a curse. “Dinner, huh? Well, he’ll get more than he bargained for today!” Kicking off the wall, she arrowed toward the door.

    “Careful with that one, Ani. He’s slime.”

    “Don’t I know it!” she tossed with a sneer of disgust over her shoulder at Jarden. “That man’s got faster fingers than a Verdet on a bargain hunt.”

    At least she’d made one of them laugh, she thought, as she spun out into the corridor. Small repayment for dragging them into exile with her. Jarden would laugh and call her a drama queen if she ever said as much, but Anya knew better. Sorry, Dorothy, you can click your heels as many times as you like, but there’s no going home. Not ever again. Clenching her jaw with grim determination, she launched herself towards Captain Treshi’s makeshift quarters.

    Dinner started out much as she’d expected. He did a lot of ‘accidental’ touching and bumping against her, but she started working on him as subtly as a diplomat, and by the end of the meal he was clucking like a broody hen over Cesna’s predicament. “That poor girl!” was his catch phrase, and nothing would do but that he should start up the grav drive immediately after dinner. And he meant it—no warning, no gradual induction, just immediate resumption of gravity. Even Anya staggered and she was standing at his elbow when he did it.

    Inwardly cringing at what might have happened to her friends—in her mind’s eye she could see Rie plummeting from the ceiling—she made her best gracious escape and hurried down the corridor to the cabin they all shared. She should have known better.

    All three were calmly perched on their baggage, Rie and Jarden sitting solicitously on either side of a still very pale Cesna. She looked up with a smile, though, when Anya entered. “My god, Ani, I can’t believe you loosened up the tight ass!” Her warm brown eyes widened in mock horror. “You didn’t actually sleep with him, did you?”

    With a relieved grin, Anya stepped into the room and hunkered down in front of them. “Sleep wasn’t what he wanted to do, but no. It didn’t come to that. How are you feeling?”

    “Much better. The room stopped spinning when I hit the floor.” Cesna’s eyes narrowed on her with uncharacteristic seriousness. “You pushed him, didn’t you?”

    Anya dropped her eyes to the floor between her feet with mild guilt. “Only a little and not for long. He was pretty easy.” She glanced up at them from beneath her lashes, unable to suppress the mischievous curl of her lips. “And I don’t know how long it’ll last. Can you see him mothering the cargo loaders when we dock? ‘You’re too skinny! You need to eat!’”

    Cesna’s infectious laughter was music to her ears; the little redhead had been so miserably ill for so many days. Anya and Jar exchanged a grin that was as much relief as humor as the dark skinned woman ran with the ball.

    “Or how about, ‘You’ll strain your back! Sit down before you hurt y’sef!’”

    In a rare show of shared humor, even Rie threw in a comment, her large opalescent eyes sliding through shades of blue as she smiled over Cesna’s head. “‘Here, let me.’”

    The image of their host—who was the very definition of self-serving—offering to shoulder a load for someone had them all giggling madly. It went on longer than the joke really called for, but it was a badly needed release of tension. If the laughter had an edge of hysteria, so what? None of them was used to running for their lives—a little hysteria was expected.

    Anya was still trying to muffle her snickers behind one hand when the captain knocked at the door. Its effect was like a thunderclap, and they fell instantly silent. Standing, Anya took a quick step to the door. “Yes?”

    “I brought food for your friend…”

    Cesna jumped to her feet. “Oh good! I'm starving—”

    Anya made a sharp gesture, but Jarden was a step ahead, jerking Ces back down beside her with a warning hiss. Rie was already up and moving toward the lavatory with a kind of stunning grace that would make a cat envious. Their host was under the impression that he was carrying four humans, since tolerance for aliens was scarce, so Rie kept out of his sight.

    “Just a second…” Anya stalled while gesturing frantically for Ces to lie down and play sick. The last thing they needed was for the captain to decide she'd been faking illness and turn the grav drive off again.

    Cesna was often oblivious and easily distracted, but no one had ever accused her of being stupid. In a flash she curled onto one side in a fetal position with her head in Jar's lap, moaning softly as though still in misery. With her eyes closed and her bright red hair contrasting against pale skin, it was a pretty convincing act.

    Pressing her lips together to hold back a smile, Anya triggered the door release. “So considerate of you, Captain Treshi!” she exclaimed to see the burly man hovering with a tray of food in hand.

    He swayed back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of the cabin behind her. “How’s your friend?”

    “Oh, she's recovering, but it takes time, you know. I'm sure she'll be up and about by the time we dock tomorrow, but what she needs most right now is nourishment and rest.” She reached out and gently pried the tray out of his grip, easing back into the room as she continued, “Thank you so much for thinking of her. Really, you've been so helpful and goodhearted. We'll all sleep better knowing a man like you is on our side. See you tomorrow morning?”

    He opened his mouth to respond, but she’d already touched the door control and it slid shut before he could get a word out. Listening carefully, Anya made sure he was moving off down the corridor before turning around.

    “Laid that on thick, didn't you?” Jar was watching her with a sardonic lift to her eyebrow.

    Ces sat up with a grimace. “Yeah, goodhearted?”

    Anya made a face as she moved toward them, handing the tray to an eager Cesna. “The dangers of improvising. Besides, would you rather I'd let him in here to coo at Ces?” The redhead mumbled something that sounded disgusted, but was too busy filling her face to be coherent, and Anya tapped her arm in admonishment. “Hey, slow down, girl! You'll give your stomach a shock and end up right back in the lav, losing it down the tube.”

    Cesna muttered something else unrecognizable and gave her a black look, but she did slow down somewhat. Sharing a look of amused tolerance with Jar, Anya stepped up on some of their baggage to reach her sleeping cocoon. Unlatching it from the wall, she rummaged around inside as Rie emerged from the lavatory and moved to resume her spot next to Ces.

    Anya had known the Thlassnian for several years now, but it was still a conscious effort not to stop whatever she was doing and simply watch her move. Rie had reassured her that most humans reacted the same way to Thlassnians, but Anya still thought that she was like a living piece of art. The fine scales of Rie’s skin shimmered with richer color than any jewel she’d ever seen, and the way she moved made Anya think of silk in the wind, all flowing lines and impossible grace. Next to her elegance, Anya always felt a little like a clod of dirt. She often wondered what Rie saw in them that kept her from just picking up and heading back to her home world.

    Pulling out the holo-projector that she’d been using earlier, she jumped lightly down from the luggage and folded herself onto the floor in front of her friends. “I figure now’s a good time to go over what’ll happen tomorrow, since we’re all here, awake, and not puking.”

    Ces made a little face at her as she finished the last bite of food and then guzzled the drink with as much enthusiasm as a bar-hound. Dropping the cup onto the tray with a sigh and a protracted belch, she stood and put the tray by the door, ignoring the disgusted mutters from the others.

    “Whenever you’re ready, Ces,” Anya murmured dryly and got a beaming smile in return as the redhead settled next to her on the floor.

    “I feel much better now.”

    “Wonderful. Okay, here’s the plan. We get off this tub and onto the station with as little fanfare as possible. That means wearing something that’ll hide our faces. I want us all to stick together as a group—no wandering off, no straggling behind. Like Jar said earlier, the TG’s man could already be ahead of us. If that’s the case, nothing’s going to stop him from taking us except little ol’ me. Not great odds, but they’re all we’ve got.”

    She paused, amazed by her friends’ intent, serious, and astoundingly trusting faces. Not a one was questioning her, though they had every right. With a hand that trembled slightly with anxiety, she activated the holograms that she’d been staring at earlier. “These two are our last hope in human territory. If they give us the boot, then all we’ll have left are the alien systems…and human policies towards other species has not made us too damned popular. So they might just be our only hope.” She didn’t tell her friends what she was really planning if things turned out that way—they wouldn’t understand. “The woman is Captain Marta Jamison, first in command. The man is Lieutenant Commander Jason Salvatore, her second on the station and the one in charge of security. He’s who we have to make for first, but you remember how much time was wasted on the other stations while we waited for them to get around to us.”

    They all nodded dutifully, and Anya felt a dismaying urge to let out a nervous giggle. Clearing her throat, she continued, “That one time I thought he had us for sure. This time, I don’t want to wait a second longer than we have to, so I think we should refuse to be registered into the system by anyone but Salvatore.”

    She paused, waiting for the protests —that kind of action was just as likely to get them thrown into the brig as get the second’s attention—but they only watched her with solemn eyes. Either they trusted her way too much or they could all see how desperate this situation was. It was probably a little of both.

    “That way we remain anonymous until we see him and can talk him and the captain into helping us. So…what do you think?”

    They were silent for a long moment. Then Rie gestured languidly at the stills of Far Reach’s commanders. “I have a good feeling about these two.”

    “Rie honey, that’s what you said last time,” Jar said with wry amusement.

    “Then, I was wrong. Now, I am not.”

    “What makes you so sure?”

    “I dreamt of Far Reach Station.”

    And how were they supposed to argue with the calm conviction in her large, luminous eyes? For Thlassnians, dreaming was not a common nightly occurrence—from what Anya had gathered, her people viewed it with a kind of mysticism.

    Shrugging, Anya shut off the hologram and rose to her feet. “I hope you’re right, Blue Lady. Because if you’re not, we’ll all be swimming in the waters of your home world.”

    She’d meant it as a joke, but Rie gave her a small smile. “I would make you welcome.”

    It was a generous offer and Anya was momentarily flustered. “I’m sure you would, but I don’t think the rest of your people would appreciate three pruned ape-things floundering around and stinking up their water.” She leaned forward and gave her friend a quick kiss on the cheek, the scaled flesh under her lips an exotic silk. “Thanks, though. You’re very sweet to offer.”

    Rie’s expression became mildly distressed. “I like the way you smell,” she murmured and then frowned as the three humans laughed.

    Jar gave her a one-armed hug. “Thanks, babe, but I get swimmer’s itch.”

    “And salt water does horrible things to my hair.” Ces tossed her red mane over one shoulder with a vain primp that made Anya smile.

    “Okay, kids, we’ve got a big day tomorrow, and we could all use a good night’s rest…especially you, Ces. I think you should take the bed.”

    “Whatever you say, Ani. I could sleep for a year!”

    Without further discussion, they began moving the luggage, stacking it against one wall and strapping it in. They had been sleeping in wall cocoons, since the bed was useless in zero G and all the baggage had been webbed down to the floor—no need for walking space when you floated. But now they had to shift things around enough to make room on the floor for sleeping and to allow space for the bed to fold down from the wall. That done, Cesna fell on the cushioned surface and was snoring softly within moments. The other three arranged themselves as best they could in the cramped space and tried gamely to get some sleep.

    Anya did no more than doze for most of the night, too anxious and uncomfortable. She’d forgotten how difficult it was to find the right sleeping position on a hard surface—in zero grav there was no wrong sleeping position. The slight change in the inertia of the ship brought her out of a dream in which she argued endlessly and uselessly with a pair of marble statues. Sighing with achy weariness, she slid out of her makeshift bed and checked the ship’s position on the console by the door. They were in deceleration, on approach to the moon that held the Far Reach station.

    Trying to contain the sudden thumping of her heart, she stepped into the lavatory for her morning ablutions. After one glance, she carefully avoided her reflection, the dark circles under her deep blue eyes and the gray quality of her skin against the white of her hair giving her a dismal, foreboding feeling.

    By the time she re-entered the cabin, Rie and Jar were also awake and whispering so as not to wake the still snoring Cesna. They had both spent their time in the lav and were dressing when Anya finally leaned over Ces. “Ces-silly…come on, wake up,” she called softly, as she rubbed a soothing hand on her back. Ces had a tendency to wake up grumpy and a gentle rousing worked best. “It’s time to get up.”

    With a grunt, Cesna rolled over onto her back and cracked one eye, her voice a hoarse whisper as she said, “Already?”

    “Sorry, baby. I’d let you sleep, but…” Anya shrugged her helplessness and Ces groaned miserably, grinding her fists into her eyes like a child. Then she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed as Anya stood to give her room. Grumbling under her breath, she staggered to her feet and across the cabin into the lavatory.

    “Okay,” Anya said, as she turned to the other two, “let’s find those cloaks.”

    They searched through the luggage until they had four voluminous cloaks with hoods that would shadow their features enough not to be recognized. Laying hers aside, Anya sat on the bed and methodically began French-braiding her long, snow-white hair. It was a calming ritual to prepare her for what was ahead, and the other two were handling things in similar ways. Rie had contorted herself into a meditative position, and Jar was pacing deliberately along the length of the cabin.

    Only Ces, when she emerged from the lav, seemed to be a bundle of nerves. Sitting down next to Anya as she finished tying off her hair, Ces fidgeted in an endless way that tightened the muscles of Anya’s neck until she was gritting her teeth. “Will you do mine, too?” the redhead asked plaintively, and Anya was on the verge of snapping at her to do her own hair when she realized that Ces needed to be soothed. She wasn’t the type to meditate—she needed someone to calm her. With a soundless sigh, Anya turned her friend so that she could brush her wild red tresses and begin braiding.

    By the time the ship gave a final shudder and was still in its berth, the four women were calmly assembled by the hatch, waiting for the captain to break the seal. He ambled down the corridor toward them, glancing at their strange attire with raised eyebrows. “Well, we’re at Far Reach. If you ladies need anything else, you just remember Captain Treshi.”

    “You’ve been very gracious, Captain. All we need now is for our baggage to be unloaded by customs and your obligation to us is finished.”

    When Anya said nothing else, he shifted uncomfortably and then pressed the hatch release. “That’s no problem. This is a tightly run station and the loaders are first class. You won’t have to wait at all.”

    “Good to hear. Thank you, Captain.”

    That was all the attention she could spare the man. Without anything further, she swept past him and into the airlock, feeling her three companions crowding in close behind. When the station’s systems were satisfied that the pressure was equalized, the door at the other end of the airlock opened for them and they moved into the docking area.

    People in gray uniforms bustled all over the area, and Anya could feel the sudden pressure of so many increasing her anxiety to a fine edge. Without hesitation, though, she headed for the customs area where passengers checked in and their identity, in the form of their DNA, was logged into the station’s system. Once logged, this became public knowledge, and anyone—including their stalker—would know exactly when they’d arrived. It was here that Anya planned on thwarting such easy access, at least for a while.

    The young man standing at the archway didn’t even bother to look up at them as they approached. “Please place a hand or other appendage on the scanner. Are you here for business or pleasure?”

    “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Anya murmured gently, and the young man’s head snapped up in surprise.

    “Sorry?” He eyed the four of them with discomfort, shifting the scanner from one hand to the other.

    “I can’t allow you to scan me. I’ll only register with Lieutenant Commander Salvatore.”

    “But…but why?”

    “He’s head of security, right? I’m afraid my situation is a matter of life and death and I need to see him.” Her voice took on a harder edge as he stared at her blankly. “Now.”

    Shifting again, he glanced around as if looking for rescue. “Ma’am, he’s a very busy man. I don’t think I can—”

    “Yes, you can. You have no choice. We’ll wait right here for him.” Very gently and with a stab of guilt, Anya pushed him. He folded like a wet noodle.

    “I’ll try my best, but it might be a while. Why don’t you wait over there, out of the way?”

    He gestured over to where their luggage was being piled with swift efficiency, and then he edged through the archway. Anya had a sudden lunatic urge to dive after him and just disappear into the station, but reined it in. When the TG operative arrived, they would be virtually helpless without protection, no matter what Jar said about her talent.

    Turning to her friends, she motioned them over to the spot that the customs officer had indicated. “Stay close, keep your eyes open, and whatever you do, try not to call attention to yourselves.”

    She got shadowy nods from within their hoods as they huddled together toward the stacked luggage. Anya took up a position in front of them as they backed against the baggage, swallowing dryly as she searched the crowded docking bay for anyone out of place. She hadn’t ever set eyes on the Guild man, but he was as distinctive to her as a shout. She’d know him if she saw him—and possibly before that.

    Peripherally she was aware that the young customs officer had returned to his place and was studiously ignoring them. She also became aware of two armed persons loitering close by. Giving them the benefit of a calm direct stare, she admitted to herself that they might end up as prisoners after all. Trying not to think negatively, she set herself to wait.