GALLANT (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 3) (5 page)

"That's better than a guess. He's going to have to lay low for quite a while after pulling two incinerations so close together."

On Zoenid, the only law was that there was no law, including no extradition treaties. Frezlo undoubtedly intended to seek shelter in that planet's southwestern quartersphere, where he could blend right in with the transient inhabitants—not because they looked like him but because there was such a variety of species residing in that inhospitable zone. The rest of the planet was a totally barren desert, where not even the most desperate criminal attempted to carve out a hiding place.

Tracking Frezlo at a distance the way they were, it was a simple matter to confirm whether or not he landed on Zoenid. After that, however, Gallant knew it would take a considerable amount of ingenuity to find the assassin and even more to get him to talk.

Oh, he had his ways, like any agent worth his credits. His ways just weren't like anyone else's. Gallant was certain he would be able to learn everything Frezlo knew, if he could find him. Although, as he had told Cherry, he possessed no telepathic capability, his special talent was worth a lot more. Only a handful of people knew the secret and revealing it would result in dire consequences for everyone involved, primarily himself.

"Have you got a plan to draw Frezlo out?" Mar asked, knowing from experience how his captain's mind worked. "I doubt he will allow himself to be found once he reaches Zoenid."

"Right. I've been sitting here reviewing his profile. There's only one thing he fears enough for me to manipulate him with it. He likes to gamble. But how do I get him to my table? A rumor of a high-stakes game might attract him but it would also dredge up every other animal in the area."

"Excuse me, Captain. This is not right."

Gallant looked up to face Dot. "What?"

"The trip to Zoenid will take another five days. Then there is no telling how long it will take to lure Frezlo to you. You clearly implied that you would return Cherry to Innerworld immediately after we touched her mind. How do you intend to explain that it took twenty-four hours to get here but as much as two weeks to get back?"

Gallant frowned at her. He was doing his utmost to keep thoughts of Cherry out of his head. It was vital that he think of her as an inanimate object, rather than a living, breathing person. He could not afford to let his decisions concerning her be influenced by one of the troublesome emotional responses that perpetually simmered just beneath his image. "You know how important this mission is. I'll take her back as soon as it's convenient."

"What will you tell her?"

"I'll stick to my first excuse—that I'm trying to keep her safe from any possible repercussion from Frezlo. That should hold her for a while."

Mar asked, "Do you think there is any chance he is aware that the Weebort spoke to her?"

"Not one. If he had seen what I saw, her ashes would have landed on top of the Weebort's." Gallant leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin, as he often did when an idea was hatching. "But what if he found out about it... after the fact. Wouldn't he come looking for her... to verify the rumor?"

"No," Dot said firmly. "You must not do what you are thinking. Frezlo would come looking for her all right. To incinerate her."

"I'd protect her," Gallant countered confidently, already fleshing out his idea. "I'd only use her as bait to draw him out then I'd put her safely out of the way." He slowly swiveled his chair around a full circle as he formulated a plan that would allow him to use Cherry and protect her at the same time. He knew Dot wasn't going to like it but he counted on her loyalty and Mar's persuasiveness to keep her from objecting too loudly. "Tell me, Mar, do you still have that slave collar we used on you during the Orvanian uprising?"

* * *

Cherry felt so much better after taking off her costume and getting cleaned up, she was even considering forgiving Voyager for abducting her... if he apologized nicely enough. He had made excuses for what he had done but had not actually said he was sorry. As she pulled on the stretchy white jumpsuit and slipped on the sandals she had worn with the peasant costume, she decided he would have to rectify that oversight.

After a few minutes of looking around the facility chamber, she found a drawer of grooming necessities, including a hairbrush with some long, black hairs in it. She only hesitated a second before using it. After all, she figured she'd already slept in the man's bed. How much more intimate could a couple get?

She quickly fluffed her short hair back into its usual simple style and took a look at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. The jumpsuit was very different from the loose-fitting attire she normally wore. She noted that it was just as comfortable, since it fit like a second skin without being constricting, but it failed to leave any portion of her anatomy to the imagination. She always abided by the theory that the less a person revealed, the more curious everyone else became.

The outfit was completely seamless with long sleeves and a rounded neckline that scooped low enough to prove she was a woman, albeit a modestly blessed one—unlike her dearest friend, Aster, whose pregnancy only exaggerated what nature had already bestowed on her.

Cherry remembered the first time she and Aster met. If ever there were two opposites, the two of them fit that description. Aster stood over six feet tall in heels and her body set the standards for the word voluptuous. Where Cherry was outgoing and uninhibited, Aster was shy and retiring. Even their backgrounds were a world apart.

Cherry was born and raised on a dirt farm in Georgia where a low-income bracket would have been a step up. She and her nine brothers and sisters slept in the same room, and none of them ever laughed, or played, or listened to music for fear the devil would possess their souls.

At an early age she learned that
love
was the reason her parents had too many mouths to feed, and
love
was the motivation behind the rigid rules and severe punishments the children received. Their religious fanaticism was even borne of an excess of
love
for God.
Love
was something Cherry was determined to keep out of her life.

From the day she entered first grade and realized she had a name of her own, Cherry wanted more. Up to that time she had answered to "girl" just as her sisters had. There were no individuals. They were all appendages of one unit commonly referred to as "the chilluns."

Her dream of becoming someone special had germinated then but wishing it aloud had earned her a beating. Her mother swore she would burn in hell for such thoughts but she couldn't get it out of her head. The first time she saw a motion picture, she knew she wanted to become a star. She would secretly act out her imaginary stories and pretend everyone came to see her, begging for her autograph.

The day after high school graduation, she walked out of that two-room shanty and never looked back. She hitchhiked to California with high hopes and few tangible assets. As luck would have it though, she got a ride to San Francisco instead of Hollywood. Out of money, she found a job in that city, as a receptionist for the Mackenzie Foundation, but still intended to follow the stardust trail to L.A. as soon as she could afford it.

The first day of her first real job was when she connected with Aster. It had been Aster's first day too, but that was the only thing they had in common. Besides their appearances and personalities, there was another major difference between them. Aster was disgustingly rich.

The Mackenzie Foundation had been set up by Aster's grandmother to give away some of the family fortune. Aster had just received her PhD in economics from Harvard and had been groomed since childhood to take over the Foundation.

Before long, Cherry had challenged herself to break Aster's mundane lifestyle of working, eating, sleeping and more working. It had taken months for Cherry to force a good laugh out of her but it had been worth the effort. Aster turned out to be the best friend Cherry ever had and vice-versa.

Eight years later when her grandmother died, Aster took over as director of the Foundation and Cherry moved up as her efficient, yet carefree, executive assistant.

Cherry never made it to Hollywood, nor could she take complete credit for turning Aster's life around. But fate had given each woman her heart's desire in the end.

Aster mated with the man of her dreams and managed to indirectly make a positive impact on the planet's environment.

Cherry became a star—the only thing she had ever wished for. Achieving that goal in Innerworld had made her happier than she had thought possible... for a time. Lately, though, she had become bored with the routine of her work. There was nothing she wanted to do more than act. It simply wasn't a challenge anymore.

The moment she heard about the Noronian Performing Company audition, she had her new challenge. She hadn't even realized how confined she felt in Innerworld until she imagined traveling to other planets.

Freedom.
Even a million miles from that dirt farm in Georgia, the word still had the power to make her pulse race. With a smile on her face and the determination to enjoy her first taste of outerspace, she returned to the bridge.

"Oh, my," Mar said appreciatively as Cherry entered then he immediately turned so that Dot could see what had surprised him with her own eyes.

"Oh, my," Dot repeated in a different, more concerned tone of voice. "You certainly look... different."

Cherry laughed. "Geez, I hope so. That peasant maiden get-up is one of the worst." Her gaze moved to Gallant as he started to turn around then paused to adjust his eye patch. She couldn't help but wonder why he had to wear such a thing when any physical defect she knew of could easily be repaired by Innerworld's medical personnel.
What could it be hiding?

She waited for the kind of complimentary greeting men usually paid her as Gallant quickly scanned her from head to toe, but he swiveled back around without a word.

"Well," she said when it was obvious he wasn't going to comment on her improved appearance. "What do y'all do around here for fun?" she asked, momentarily slipping back into her Georgian accent.

Before anyone could answer, she walked to the side of the bridge and touched the glass. "This is really amazing. It's practically invisible. How does it stay so clean?" She pressed both hands against the glass then stepped back. Her prints remained visible for only a few seconds before they vanished. "Self-cleaning, huh?" She turned to see Mar grin at her and she smiled back.

Cherry circled the bridge, looking out from every angle possible. "It's so dark. How can you tell where you're going?" When she received no answer to this question either, she walked up behind Gallant and tried to read what was on the monitor in front of him.

Gallant tensed as he felt her hovering over him. It was bad enough that he had made the mistake of seeing what she looked like out of costume, with her this close he could practically feel the energy radiating from her body. She was making it extremely difficult to think of her as an inanimate object. "Perhaps you would like to read or watch a video. There's a personal viewer in my room you could use."

"I'd rather take in the view right here. What's this?" she asked pointing to the grid on the screen in front of Mar-Dot.

Dot turned to her with a smile. "That's the sector of space we're in now." She touched an illuminated blue spot on the grid. "There we are."

Cherry bent over to get a closer look at the other spots and configurations on the grid. "Are one of those bigger shapes Earth?"

Dot frowned and glanced at Voyager. "I am sure Captain Voyager would be much more capable of answering all your questions."

With an abrupt twist, Mar faced his captain. "Please excuse us. It is past time for our rest period and you know Dot gets quite cranky—"

"I do not get cranky," Dot insisted as she turned her face toward Cherry.

"You do," Mar said, stepping away from the panel, "and we should not subject our guest to one of your moods."

"My moods!"

"You see, you are getting cranky."

Cherry tried not to laugh at the he-she as they left the bridge, arguing back and forth in the same voice. A moment later their voices were cut off by the door to their room and Cherry turned to Voyager. "I guess you're used to that."

He shook his head without looking at her. "I accept it. They're the best navigator in the galaxy."

"So, tell me how all of this works," she said with a wave of her hand over the panel.

"Wouldn't you rather take your rest now?"

"You've got to be kidding. I just rested for twenty-four hours. I'm wide awake." She noticed that he appeared to be totally absorbed in whatever was on his monitor and she leaned over his shoulder to take another look.

Immediately, he cleared the screen and turned his chair so that she was forced to move aside, while he made some adjustments on the navigator's side of the control panel.

Cherry leisurely circled the panel, mainly to see if she could get him to follow her movement. So far, he had managed to avoid meeting her eyes except for the briefest moment and it was beginning to get on her nerves.

Gallant let out an exasperated sigh. "If you think you could sit still for a few minutes, I'll answer your questions."