Starline, Page 2

  “Meredith, are you in a safe location?” he demanded forcefully.

  Another hitched breath echoed. He gripped his table and leaned forward, not that he could do anything. The sounds faltered from thousands of miles away.

  “Meredith?” His sister was in danger, and here he listened on a ship so far away. Barsha! He should have protected her.

  “Duvall, you need to access frequency…” She rattled off the information he would need to follow the device as he tapped into his unit. “Oh God! They’re here—” Abruptly, the line went dead.

  “Meredith? Meredith?”

  Quickly accessing the Admiralty, he demanded a connection to WO Meredith Gentry. A voice informed him that Gentry could not be raised and asked if someone else could help with his query. His demands to talk to the Admiral met with a similar fate.

  Frustration welled upward, nearly choking him as he disconnected. He knew he couldn’t go back and couldn’t think who else he could contact. He had to maintain a chain of silence while investigating the handbook’s loss. But what if the Admiralty had been breached? Never had any other thoughts shaken him so much.

  His heart thudded as he sat back down. Could more than a single infiltrator exist? He hoped not, but the itching at his neck grew in intensity, and he feared the worst. Tapping the information Meredith had given him into his desk screen, he started toward tracking the handbook, thankful for the foresight of officers such as his sister.

  The blip of the machine echoed through the room, and an answer bounced back to him. A heading he would never have guessed. Toward the Time Port and back in time. If he couldn’t help Meredith, he could at least work toward retrieving the item she had risked so much to track. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to do. For now anyway.

  He hailed the bridge. “Full speed toward the Time Port,” he instructed, just in time to see the blip disappear.

  * * * *

  Saturday morning greeted Mellissa as she woke up and bounced out of bed. Quickly dressing and grabbing breakfast, she made her way downstairs. “Nothing to do today but help George and Eliza.”

  She loved what she did. Owning a bookstore allowed her the freedom to indulge in her favorite vice—a good book—and allowed her fertile mind to feed. Yes indeed, nothing could be more perfect. Of course, Jem had hounded her to go on a date with the brother or something of her latest boyfriend, but in Mellissa’s experience, a good book made up for the lack of a man.

  As she rounded the corner, she spied a package wrapped in paper on the mat by the back door, just below the slot. “Hmm, so that was another book in the slot.”

  Bending down, she scooped up the package and opened it to find a tablet device inside. The item was small and hard, more like a PDA, she thought, shaking her head. Maybe somebody had accidentally dropped the wrong thing in the slot.

  Well, no doubt they would come back for it. So many people would just deposit a book through the slot—though they usually used the flap at the front, instead of heading around the back where the mail slipped through—because they didn’t want a credit on a new book. It always amazed her, but sometimes the most interesting titles came her way like this.

  Slipping it in the crook of her arm, she headed toward her office. Another day of happy writing awaited, and she couldn’t get started soon enough. She placed the package in the pile behind her desk, planning to take a closer look at it later. Maybe she could find an identifier on it so she could track its owner, she thought absently.

  She pulled her mind back to the task she looked forward to starting on: the antics of her George and Eliza.

  * * * *

  The pounding on the door pulled Mellissa from her thoughts as it echoed through the building. It interrupted her thinking, but given it had continued for a while, she just couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  She rose from her chair, and making her way toward the front of the store, she muttered under her breath, “It’s Saturday, people.” Couldn’t they see the shop was closed? Opening the blind on the door, she peered out to see a man on the step. “We’re closed!” she called.

  He looked at her and made a move to open the door.

  “We are closed,” she repeated.

  She heard the man mutter, “You have something…”

  She lost the gist of what he said as she got a good look at the muscular man with black hair and piercing green eyes standing on the stoop. God, he looks so sexy!

  “Can you let me in?” she finally heard.

  “What? Oh, sorry,” she said, quickly unlocking the door and opening it a crack. “Now what did you say?”

  “You have something that belongs to me,” said the impossibly sexy man.

  She wondered if he would think she was nuts if she asked to take a photo of him. He looked just like what she thought George would. She grinned to herself. Sure, girl. Jem would ask something like that. She blinked away the thought and focused on the man in front of her.

  “Ummm, I don’t think so,” Mellissa said, making to close the door.

  “A pad…” And the memory twigged.

  “Oh, right,” she said, sliding away from the door just enough to let him in, then re-securing the locks. “We’re closed on Saturdays, so you’re lucky I was here.”

  Motioning for him to follow her, she made her way to the back of the store. She stopped at the doorway and watched him look around.

  “Please take a seat,” Mellissa offered, gesturing to a chair sitting in front of her desk. Casting around, she looked for the package. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was? Mr…”

  “McCord, Duvall McCord,” the gorgeous stranger intoned. His gaze roamed over her, and she had the most uncomfortable feeling he liked what he saw, because his eyes twinkled and the smile on his lips grew wider.

  Mellissa chastised herself, because she looked so very ordinary. She certainly wasn’t the sort of girl who would appeal to a buff and sexy male like this. He had that totally alpha look about him, she thought. Then she embarrassed herself by blushing at her thoughts, and felt the heat of the red tide rising on her cheeks.

  Spying the package on a small table just behind her desk, she stretched for it, when suddenly a loud crash and whine came from the back of the building, and before she could blink, McCord reached into his pocket and pulled out some sort of device. A red light on it blinked and his face took on a harsh cast.

  “Get down!” he shouted, leaning over her, covering her body with his. He grabbed her hand and the package together. “Two for transport now!” he shouted, and the world turned black.

  Chapter 2

  Sound. Lights. Slowly, consciousness reasserted itself. Mellissa felt a pillow beneath her head and the softness of a mattress underneath her body. Even with her eyes closed, she couldn’t place the surroundings; it didn’t feel like her comfortable little bed above the shop. Her eyes opened to white walls and bright lights that stung them. She blinked once, twice, then again.

  Memories filtered slowly. A man! Her office! Where was she? More importantly, where was he? She started to rise, but a thick band lay over her chest, restraining her. Agitation and panic bloomed in her chest, smothering her, and her breath caught. This didn’t feel right. Had he trapped her? What had happened? She tried to free her hands, and a beeping started fast and furious.

  Footsteps sounded just beyond her view, measured, light. Then a face surrounded by a halo of red hair caught her attention. She saw deep scarring, and fear bloomed again, stronger than before, choking her in a cloud of sour and oily emotions. Where was she?

  “Ahh, you’re awake. Don’t be afraid. My name is Elara, and I’m just going to give you a quick check over.” The voice slipped over her like silk. She got the impression that the modulated tones were those of a highly educated woman.

  She looked at the woman with scarring on her face and neck. She didn’t know this woman or what had happened to her, and her fear grew. Was this what she had to look forward to? Fright choked her, and she struggled
again to free herself.

  The woman who had called herself Elara reached out a hand. More scars. Mellissa’s eyes rose to the woman’s. The gaze that met hers was watchful and wary, and the fight-or-flight reaction pumped in Mellissa’s veins.

  “Apologies, we didn’t wish to startle you.” The hand lightly touched a switch, and the band over her chest retracted. The mechanical heartbeat sound stopped. “Please be easy. You’re safe now.” The woman smiled, uncertainty clear in her eyes.

  “Where am I?” Mellissa demanded, surprised by the weakness she heard. She winced—not at all the way it should have come out, and not as strong and self-assured as she would have liked.

  “You’re aboard the Elector. Captain McCord brought you here to keep you safe.” The woman smiled again. “I’m ST Elara Sudonne. Uh, I believe you would call me a medic. Now, how are you feeling? You may have a headache as your endorphin levels are higher than usual, as is your adrenaline, but no more than should be expected.”

  Elector? ST? Huh, what did they hope to gain? This was a rather elaborate setup, and the whole mess made no sense.

  Mellissa stared at the woman, mesmerized by the patterns on her face and hands. She realized quickly that she was staring. She could hear Mother Superior telling her don’t be rude. She lowered her head. “My name is Mellissa. But where is the Elector, and why am I on a ship?”

  Elara’s face crinkled. “Ah, it is not a ship as you know them, but a stealth ship—well, you see, it’s the latest generation starship,” she informed Mellissa, who gaped at her.

  This woman must think her simple. Starship? So funny…not!

  “But that is not the only thing that concerns you, is it? The scars worry you too.”

  She removed a small device from her pocket. Mellissa started, but Elara put her hand out.

  “Nothing to worry about. I just need to check to make sure everything is well. All of this is just a precaution to make sure you’re okay,” she said, waving the device up and down. “I was taken prisoner by the Ru’Edan when I was younger. They are an alien humanoid species we have been at war with. They wanted to…” Elara hesitated briefly. “…experiment on a human, and I was their chosen guinea pig. McCord, the captain, and my partner, Grayson, found me. Brought me back, but not before what you see here,” she said, waving to herself.

  “Right, and I’m Professor Xavier of the X-Men!” Mellissa leaned toward the woman, hoping she’d cave and give her the information she needed to get out of there. “Who are you, and where in hell am I? Oh, and don’t start with the spaceship hocus-pocus rubbish. We all know that the limit of current space exploration is only to the moon.” Anger rose once more. What did they think she was? An idiot?

  Leaning over and holding out a hand, Elara helped Mellissa to rise. Unsteady, and once again surprised, Mellissa accepted the help grudgingly. Looking down, she saw the clothes she had thrown on earlier, with nothing out of place. Thank God, she thought, inwardly cataloging aches and pains in her body, but none betrayed any form of physical abuse that she could pinpoint. She looked into the woman’s eyes, this Elara.

  “I understand that this seems hard to believe, but everything you’ve been told is fact. No lies.” The woman paused for a heartbeat. “Come on, you must be hungry, and McCord will need to know that you’re well and truly recovered. The first time we transmit can have all sorts of effects, so we like to keep observation for a good eight or so hours afterward, and you haven’t been here that long.” She motioned for Mellissa to follow her. “If you will follow me up to the mess hall, I’ll do my best to explain what has happened.” Elara continued slowly. Mellissa followed her into a larger room then toward a hidden doorway. “Let’s grab something to eat, and I can answer some of your questions.” The woman showed her the way to some steps.

  Mellissa’s stomach rumbled with hunger, and now she showed more than a little interest in her surroundings. She might find a way out of there, so she decided to go along with the woman. But she started getting an uncomfortable feeling that the woman believed her own words or that this was an elaborate hoax. The rattle of metal steps and decking made her wary though. She had no answers to either who would play such an elaborate joke or why.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, they walked along a small hall and into a large but sparsely furnished room with booth-style seats. Not welcoming or comfortable, but serviceable. The walls sported the usual gunship gray she had read of in many books about naval ships, but the ports that held her attention: the black inky sky outside, and stars. Whoever had put this ruse together had planned it well.

  A small unit winked and blinked with bright colors in the wall on what looked like a palm screen. Elara stepped up to it and put her hand on the screen, saying firmly, “Tea, black, and nut mix.”

  A plate appeared, drawn up from an aperture below, with a packet of nuts. Beside the plate, a steaming cup of tea appeared in an aperture that slid open. Holy moly! Now that intrigued her. She had never seen anything like this before. Maybe she should investigate more? There was some serious technology here, and while she really didn’t keep abreast of that sort of thing, this no doubt would have inspired discussion with the techies that came in to buy those sorts of books from her. And she had seen a lot of those sorts of books while undertaking her own research.

  Elara turned back to Mellissa. “What appeals to you? There is a list above of what is available at this point in the day,” she said, inclining her head.

  Options including soup, light sandwiches, and some berry sweets seemed logical for snacks. Mellissa shook her head, but her stomach rumbled, giving her away.

  Elara grinned at her. “Come on, just tell it what you want.”

  “Umm, can I get a coffee and chicken sandwich?” Mellissa asked.

  “Sure, just place your palm on the pad and make your selection,” said Elara.

  Moving forward, she placed her palm against the cool plate, but suddenly a voice said, “Unknown print—access denied.”

  Mellissa jumped back, startled.

  “Stupid machine!” Elara groused. “I didn’t think that you wouldn’t register with the palm scanner.”

  And not for the first time since waking, the Alice in Wonderland effect hit Mellissa.

  “This sort of thing doesn’t happen often,” Elara told her over a shoulder. “Not too many come onto the ship that don’t have active prints. Here, take this and find somewhere to sit, and I’ll get your coffee and sandwich.” Turning back to the machine, Elara placed her palm against the plate and ordered.

  Mellissa slowly made her way toward a seat and sat down. She had a sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.

  * * * *

  The beeping on the bridge alerted Duvall to a possible breach in the mess hall. Breach? He quickly rose and double-timed it up the stairs only to stop in the doorway where he saw his SurgiTech Elara sitting with the pretty woman he had rescued from the bookstore.

  Eshra be damned. There he was on a need-to-know mission, and he’d picked up a human woman from a different time. “What was I thinking?” He smiled humorlessly. Well, he would have to make the best of it; she couldn’t go back. Such a risk outweighed any possible benefits, and he had to get back to the Admiralty. I’ll need to consider how to work this into my report.

  He strode forward, his large black boots eating up the distance toward the seat, and on reaching it, he noticed surprise and fear on the woman’s face. A very pretty woman, beautiful, but not stunning, he thought, cataloguing the lean body, pale skin, and brown hair.

  Her lips were slightly too large and wide, but surprisingly full. Her hazel eyes were ringed with long eyelashes. A feeling of something akin to interest surprised him. For a minute, he allowed it to bloom, then tamped the unusual feelings down. He’d experienced interest before and not acted; this time couldn’t be any different, he reminded himself.

  “Captain Duvall McCord, ma’am,” he introduced, then looked away to see Elara watching him. “That looks
like a damn good idea,” he said, and he trod over to the dispenser to make a selection.

  Steaming coffee and nuts would tide him over while he found out what the woman knew, if anything, though he had a feeling this could take time. With the items in hand, he headed back to the women and sat next to Elara.

  “I suppose you have some questions?” he queried, looking expectantly into the eyes of the woman—Mellissa, he thought she had said her name. Funny, he hadn’t noted the smooth, oval shape of her face, somehow soft and feminine with a hint of strength in the nose and around the eyes.

  “Why am I here?” she demanded boldly.

  Her hands gripped the cup, and he noticed no communal marking on her skin. The most common marking in vogue was three teardrops inside the wrist to represent the contract of Life, Commitment, and Love. His knowledge of historical mating customs was slim though, so he made a mental note to question this later. His tension released somewhat. No one else would need transporting if she was indeed unpaired. At least he hoped so. A feeling of relief that he wasn’t going to investigate rose in him.

  “Elara, if you are finished, I’ll clear away.” It wasn’t a suggestion or query, but more of a soft order.

  Elara immediately excused herself, saying, “I’ll be in the medical station should you need me.”

  He watched as Elara moved toward the entrance and disappeared around the corner. He needed her out of the way so he could concentrate on his soft interrogation.

  “The package you were in possession of contained classified information. The noise you heard before we transmitted was the start of a Ru’Edan attack force trying to retrieve it.” He looked at her intently; her face betrayed no trace of a connection with any of the information. Perhaps a hint of fear and distrust, but it disappeared quickly. “Once they have your DNA signature, they will keep after you until they can retrieve either the package or the information as to where it has gone from you. You saw what they did to Elara. If you look like that when they’re finished with you, you’d be lucky.” The blunt words hit home, and he watched her eyes widen in comprehension and fear.