Codename Summer (Undercover Embassy, Book Four) (6 page)

He needed some time away from Saroji, away from her responsive body and the challenges surrounding her. How was he supposed to make rational decisions when all he could think about was claiming her, proving to her, once and for all time, that they were destined mates?

A subdermal chip in his wrist triggered an entrance in the southeast wall of the courtyard. After a quick jaunt down a nondescript corridor, he took a stairway down two levels and hurried along another hallway. Storerooms and utility closets were more common than offices on this floor, but the Gathosians had only targeted the secluded room when they’d established their Hub. They hadn’t created it.

He paused, listening for the telltale buzz of distant conversation or the muffled rhythm of approaching feet. All was quiet. He was alone.

Except for a few highly placed anchors, Malik was the only humanoid on Earth who knew how to find the Hub. He took his orders directly from the Gathosian high command so he used the interdimensional link far more often than anyone else. It was a window into the Gathosians’ home dimension and he suspected they had no idea just how far he was able to see into their world.

Stepping in front of an unmarked door, he waited as multiple beams scanned his face and body. The beams blinked out and a subtle
click
indicated the door’s release.

The interior of the room was no more impressive than the door. The walls were bare and a rickety desk shoved into one corner was the only furniture. He moved to the center of the room and waited. The Gathosians had been alerted to a visitor by the scanner. Verbal greetings were a humanoid practice. Relying on the primitive custom would reveal his agitation so he remained silent and still.

Light penetrated the walls and energy rolled through Malik’s body, but the wave lacked its usual intensity.

Speak
, Fibarre, the Gathosian leader, commanded, his presence a distant rumble rather than his usual boom.

“My investigation has produced more questions than answers. I am more convinced than ever that one or more of the ambassadors are exchanging more than sexual favors, but I have been unable to verify which one, or ones.”

Inwatta was equally useless. Her energy has been dispersed.

Images flashed through Malik’s mind, accompanied by stabs of uncharacteristic emotion. It all happened so fast he wasn’t able to unravel the jumble, only absorb it.

Five days were approved for this mission
, Fibarre snapped.
Do not waste time with these pointless conversations. Return when you have something to report, or not at all!
He retreated so suddenly the suction drove Malik to his knees.

He gasped and trembled, forcing air past his burning throat. What the hell was going on? The Gathosians were the ones who had demanded daily reports. He struggled to his feet and stumbled out into the hall, not willing to risk Fibarre’s unexpected return.

Retracing his footsteps, he soon found himself in the courtyard straddling his skimmer-cycle. He paused with his helmet in his lap, enjoying the cool night air. As soon as he returned to Saroji all thoughts of the Gathosians would be eclipsed by their passion, so he closed his eyes and allowed the strange images to replay within his mind.

Over and over he experienced the scene, examining the emotions as well as the disjointed images. It was another piece to the puzzle, a possible chink in their armor. And the knowledge endangered him as never before. The Gathosians might need him alive but that didn’t prevent them from employing any number of physical and psychological tortures.

The disquieting thought accompanied him all the way back to the embassy. He tried not to dwell on the possibilities but he didn’t have to imagine what Gathosian torture would be like. All he had to do was let down his guard and remember.

Isolation, first and foremost. An isolated victim fell more quickly into despair. Then deny them simple creature comforts like food, furniture, a place to answer nature’s call. If these basic steps failed to bring about the needed results they moved on to more direct means—pain, humiliation, degradation.

He forced away the unwanted memories, refusing to wallow in their self-defeating mire. The past could not be changed but the future was unwritten. He stood at a crossroads. It was time for him to choose a path, to continue on in this endless drudgery, or fight for a better life.

The doorman let him in with a polite smile and he went immediately to the suite he’d reserved for the week. The errand had taken longer than he’d intended. Was Saroji still angry, or was she restless and ready for the next round of their courtship?

“Are they really cloning anchors?”

He snapped his head to the side at the sound of Autumn’s voice. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but finding Mistress Autumn and General Noirte seated on the sofa wasn’t anywhere on his list.

“Where is Saroji?” His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched.

“I’m right here.” She stepped out of the bedroom and hurried to his side. “I needed to use the bathroom.” She slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a firm squeeze. “You’ve been gone forever.”

“We were beginning to think you’d gotten what you needed and had no reason to return.” The corners of Ra’jen’s mouth quirked but his gaze remained unreadable.

Rather than respond to Ra’jen’s provocation, Malik looked at Autumn and asked, “What would I gain by spreading a lie?”

“Have you seen the prototype for yourself?” Even the hint of a smile left Ra’jen’s lips as he answered for his mate. Malik’s investigation had revealed that they were lovers. Seeing them together made the true depth of their devotion undeniable.

“Define ‘seen’.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Malik crossed to the overstuffed chair facing his visitors and sat. To his surprise, Saroji sat on one of the wide armrests rather than finding a chair of her own. The simple gesture of solidarity, whether intentional or not, pleased him immensely.

“There are many ways to see. I have seen the prototype in my mind, or actually in the mind of his maker. To my knowledge none of the clones have been brought into this dimension.”

“How have incorporeal beings managed to manufacture clones?” Autumn asked. “I thought their entire dimension was…nonphysical.”

“Their dimension is not all that different from ours.”

“Have you been there?” Ra’jen’s brow rose in obvious challenge. The women might be ready to accept Malik into the fold but the general trusted no one. Malik smiled inwardly. That’s probably where his sister had learned to be so suspicious.

He reached over and took Saroji’s hand. Once he started down this path there would be no turning back. He was about to join the Resistance. “There’s a conduit linking their dimension with ours. When I access the energy stream I’m able to see into their minds as they see into mine. The conduit is called the Hub and I don’t think the Gathosians are aware that the access works both ways.”

Ra’jen rested his ankle on his knee, foot tapping out his tension. “We’ve been searching for these Hubs forever. We’d begun to think they were urban legends.”

“They exist on each inhabited world and each Hub is networked with the others. But only those with Gathosian energy can access them.”

“You’re no longer an anchor.” Ra’jen’s gaze turned cold and piercing. “Are you still able to use these Hubs or can you just lead us to them?”

“The last Gathosian I hosted died while he possessed my body. His dispersal left me with enough residual energy to activate the Hub.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Autumn interjected. “How were the clones built by incorporeal beings?”

“The Gathosians’ dimension is small and densely populated. After systematically enslaving each world in their dimension they realized their tactics had done irreparable damage to their universe. So they tore a hole in the barrier separating their dimension from ours and created the Master Hub. It’s the only conduit large enough for ships to pass through.”

“That’s how they get all the minerals they scavenge here back to their dimension.”

Autumn’s realization was posed as a statement but Malik felt obligated to reply. “Yes. On this side of the Master Hub they’re only interested in natural resources. They have hordes of subjects waiting in their own dimension so there is no reason to worry about our fate.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to bring their people here rather than strip-mine our planets and drag everything back there?”

“Though we are both carbon-based life forms, our chemical composition is different enough that the vast majority of our worlds are not habitable for their subjects.”

“That’s why they needed the clones,” Ra’jen mused. “Their energy is toxic to people in our dimension.”

“And unfortunately for them, Barton was one of the first planets they ravaged. They had no idea they were slaughtering the only race of beings capable of tolerating their energy.”

They lapsed into thoughtful silence for a time, then Malik scooted to the edge of his seat and said, “Now it’s my turn. How large is your network and how quickly can they be ready to strike?”

“Is there a specific need for haste? I prefer to advance with caution. We’ll only get one chance to make this work.”

“I just met with Fibarre, the Gathosian leader, and he seemed weak and frustrated. As you know, Inwatta became obsessed with corporeal sensations and it twisted her mind.”

“Or her mind was twisted, causing her obsession,” Ra’jen countered.

Malik waved away the distinction. “Either way. I believe her dispersion affected the leaders, weakened them in some way. I have no way of knowing how long the effect will last but the sooner we strike, the better.”

Ra’jen nodded, pausing for a moment before he said, “I control the Protectorate and the Protectorate controls every inhabited planet in this dimension. Without us, the Gathosians will be forced to slink back to their dimension permanently.”

Malik smiled. “I suspected as much when I learned your lover was involved with the Resistance. It made more sense for you to have recruited Autumn than the other way around. But even with your support I found it hard to believe the Resistance could accomplish what needed to be done.”

Ra’jen chuckled, the sound spontaneous and unexpected. “You of all people should know how determined I can be.”

They stared at each other for a moment as the women began to squirm. Knowing a pissing contest would accomplish nothing, Malik moved on. “So what’s the next step?”

“We’re facing two primary obstacles, the compound and the Hub network. I have the first well in hand. Can you take out the second?”

Malik took a moment to answer. He didn’t want to promise something he couldn’t deliver. This was too important. “If we take out the Master Hub the others will go offline. The entire network draws its power from their home dimension. I can get you inside the local Hub, which links to the master, but destroying them will be tricky. A scanner verifies identity and checks for munitions before it unlocks the door.”

“Are you willing to do it?” Ra’jen met his gaze, challenge clear in his smoky blue eyes.

“Are you trying to finish what you started last time I saw you?”

Saroji slipped her arm around his shoulders and pressed in close against him. “We’re just gathering information. There’s no way it will come to that.”

Not trusting the distraction of her warm body, Malik pushed to his feet. “If my life is the price that must be paid to end this madness, I’m not afraid to die. But I will not do it because of some vendetta you’ve harbored—”

“I don’t use suicide bombers,” Ra’jen stressed. “I find the practice deplorable. Saroji has made it clear that her choices are her own and she will not tolerate my interference again. You need to fight this out with her. Now can we focus on the Resistance?”

As Malik lowered himself into the chair beside Saroji she slipped down the armrest and sat in the chair he’d just vacated. “Let’s say we have an explosive that doesn’t trigger munitions scanners. Is there any way to exit the Hub while it’s still turned on?”

“The Gathosians control activation.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as pressure began to throb behind his eyes. “Let me think about it. If you have an explosive I can sneak past the scanners I’ll figure out the rest.”

“What about all the people in their dimension?” Autumn’s voice was soft and sad. “Don’t they deserve freedom too?”

“We have to choose our battles, love. There is only so much we can do.”

“Rebellion often breeds rebellion. If we succeed in driving them back to their own dimension it could embolden the people there.” Malik shifted his gaze back to Ra’jen and asked, “What sort of timeframe are we talking about? How close are you to mass production with the antidote?”

Ra’jen looked at his sister and Malik felt the subtle ripple of telepathic communication. General Noirte was still hesitant to reveal their secrets to a Gathosian lapdog. Malik couldn’t really blame him. If the situations were reversed he’d be suspicious too.

“It will take months to produce enough of the antidote for everyone,” Ra’jen finally explained, “but the existing supply will last longer than the Gathosians realize as more and more of us no longer depend on the compound.”

“Have you begun live trials?”