Ghost in the Machine (Corwint Central Agent Files) Read online

  She looked at her reflection in the last bit of liquid at the bottom of her bowl. Joking or not joking, the expression was a mask either way. Tara’s voice saying her name brought her out of her thoughts and her eyes back up to the group. “Pardon?”

  “Your hair clip.” Tara pointed at the top of Orynn’s head and turned to Hank. “See, I told you it was almost an exact match.”

  Orynn tilted her head. “What was?”

  Hank rolled his eyes. “Tara spent like twenty minutes drooling at one of the jewelry vendors. What’s with girls and jewelry?”

  “Oh shut it, Hank.” Tara scowled at him, then turned back to Orynn. “It was more like five minutes, but they have this carved necklace that is very similar to your hair clip. C’mon, we have time.”

  Before Orynn could protest, Tara grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd. The boys got up and followed behind them. Tara kept them far enough ahead and looped her arm through Orynn’s elbow, leaning into her ear. “So, about Ethan...”

  Orynn almost blushed. She hadn’t participated in ‘girl talk’ in a very long time, and despite her best efforts, she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. “I take it you saw the... well…”

  “That kiss! Are you kidding?” Tara snorted a laugh. “That was like the kiss of legends.”

  Orynn’s eyes looked to the side in embarrassment. “My memory of what happened is a bit hazy.” Talking about this with Tara was making her feel like a teenager. Remembering who she was supposed to be, she lifted her chin and sneered at the next man who looked at her.

  “Oh.” Tara frowned. “I guess I can understand if it was that Drasa or whatever.”

  ‘No.” Orynn heard herself say. “At least, not entirely.”

  “Then you do like him?” Tara knew she was being nosy, but she didn’t care. She cared for Ethan like a brother. Those boys walking behind her were the most important people in her life and she felt the need to protect them from anything, or anyone, that may try to hurt them. Orynn seemed like a nice girl, but there was still so much about the Vesparian that was questionable, including that bit about Hank’s father.

  “I mean, you like him in that way?”

  Orynn thought on that for a moment as they walked, arm in arm. She was beginning to understand how her heart felt about Ethan, but her mind was a totally different problem. It told her how she should feel about Ethan and the rest of the crew - distant, amiable, detached.

  “It is hard for me, Tara, to know how my heart feels. There are things from my past that bind it. I think that I do have strong feelings for him, but I am afraid that those things that bind my heart may hurt him.”

  Her reply formed an instant opinion about her in Tara’s mind. It was clear that Orynn wanted to protect Ethan as much as she did, even from herself. Tara tightened her arm around Orynn’s elbow and glanced over her shoulder at the boys who were several feet behind them.

  “He’s stronger than you think.”

  “I hate it when she gives us that look.” Hank scratched the back of his neck as Brom and Ethan walked on either side of him. “It usually means she’s about to get me in some sort of trouble.”

  Ethan had remained in a detached silence since leaving the storeroom. His feelings and mind were all out of sorts, and he felt in need of a good system realignment. Orynn wanted to be with him. He knew that now for certain, but something was holding her away from him. The desire to find out what it was burned in him, but he was afraid he might hurt her in the process.

  As Orynn and Tara stopped at the jewelry vendor, he stepped up behind them and looked over her shoulder. Tara was pointing out the necklace to her and telling her she should try it on. It was the same type of carved shell as her hair clip, with the same motif of roses and leaves. It was in the shape of a triangle, with a rose in the center of each side. A carved leaf started from either side of each rose and ended at one of the triangle’s corners. Nestled in the middle of the pendant, surrounded by the three roses, was a circular cut moonstone. From two of the leaf-tip corners, the silver chain hung. From the third, middle point, hung a tear shaped moonstone attached with a trio of caressing leaves.

  “It is lovely.” Orynn nodded and ran her finger across the smooth surface of the moonstone. “It is a very close match. You have a good eye, Tara.”

  She glanced up, but Tara was gone. “Tara?”

  Her eyes darted about, searching the crowd. She spotted Hank and Brom hunched over a booth with carved-handle knives and Ethan was standing behind her. Tara was nowhere to be found and the presence of her aura had vanished. Orynn’s voice raised as a fear gripped her. “Tara?”

  Hank and Brom looked up from the knife they were discussing when they heard the alarm in Orynn’s voice. They headed over, their eyes scanning the other booths as they walked. Hank’s worry grew. Something wasn’t right. Tara didn’t just run off on her own like this. “Tara?”

  “Hank!” Tara’s voice called out from the behind a nearby booth. It was full of desperation.

  “Tara!” Hank called out as he as the group ran after the sound of her voice.

  17 T’jaros

  “This way!” Hank yelled over his shoulder as he ducked into the shadows of a maintenance corridor. The rest of the group followed as he tried to keep up with the T’jaros dragging Tara ahead of them. The T’jaros fired a few warning shots over Hank’s head, but none that were aimed directly at the group. The pirate was leading them on, and into a trap Hank had little doubt.

  After several turns down unmarked passages, he was turned around and felt like they had been traveling in circles. He hoped Ethan had been keeping a map in his head, or they could take weeks to find their way back out to the main part of the station. He stopped as they came to a fork in the passage. One way looked well lit and commonly used, and the other had a construction sign posted. Neither path showed any signs of Tara or the T’jaros. “Dammit.”

  The group fell silent and listened. A dripping of water echoed somewhere ahead. The faint sound of footsteps and shuffling scrapes carried into the corridor, but they sounded like they could have come from any direction, even from behind them. A man’s angry cry filled the air, followed by a pain-filled groan. “Bitch! Get her!”

  “Hank!” Tara’s voice called out, followed by the sounds of struggle. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Her voice echoed as it went in and out of earshot. “Hangar... construction... Trap!”

  “Someone muzzle her!” A new male voice joined the conflict.

  “Let’s go.” Hank motioned toward the corridor with the construction posting.

  Without hesitation about the probable trap, Brom, Orynn and Ethan followed Hank down the unlit maintenance corridor. The continued sounds of struggle ahead quickened their steps, and it sounded like Tara was giving those T’jaros a good fight. The corridor ended abruptly into a large unused hangar bay and phaser fire filled the room. Hank and the group ducked for cover behind a wall of dusty tarp-covered containers. Hank, Brom and Ethan unholstered their weapons and prepared to return fire.

  “Hold yer fire, dogs!” The same male voice from before called out. He seemed to be the leader of this T’jaros group and the gun blasts stopped. “Captain, let us have a word as men!”

  “That would require that both of us be men.” Hank called out over his shoulder, his back still against the shielding containers. “From where I sit, all I see is a pirate.”

  “Oh-ho, Captain!” The man held his hand over his heart as some of his men chuckled. “That cuts me deep, it does!” The lanky unshaven man scratched his chin while he waited for Hank to respond. He had a large tattoo that swirled over his right cheek and eye and ended over his left brow. From each of his ears hung several gold hoops and one earlobe was stretched by a black bone ring. When he didn’t receive a reply from Hank, he gave a long dramatic sigh.

  “You know, Captain, I didn’t want it to come to this.” He looked over his shoulder at several similarly tattooed and pierced males behind him. “Bring th
e girl!”

  “Let me go, you stinking bastards!” Tara fought against her rope bonds as they passed her forward.

  “Thought I told you lot to muzzle her!” The leader gave his group a frustrated glare.

  “Sorry, Flick.” The portly man dragging Tara lowered his eyes. “She bit Trigger’s finger near clean off and no one else wanted to give her a go after that.”

  Hank had to laugh. “Sounds like you guys are having some trouble. Want us to take her off your hands while you still have them?”

  “Idiots.” Flick took Tara roughly away from the other man and held her in front of him.

  “You okay out there, Tara?” Hank was still laughing, despite the situation. He knew Tara could take care of herself with a group of T’jaros scum, as long as Flick and his posse didn’t get too rash.

  “Just entertaining our new friends.” Tara looked over her shoulder at the tattooed men behind her as Flick struggled to keep her still. “Isn’t that right boys?” She showed them her teeth and snapped them shut. The portly man jumped.

  “Quiet, girl.” Flick jolted Tara hard to the left, snapping her back around to the front. “You’re amusing, but keep it up and I’ll break that pretty jaw of yours and throw you to the hounds.”

  Behind Flick, some of the rougher looking men barked and howled in Tara’s direction. A few of them made lewd gestures towards their groins or blew Tara kisses. She scowled and attempted to head butt Flick. Her jab fell short when Flick hit her hard in the stomach.

  As Tara doubled over and tried to catch her breath, Hank lifted his head over the containers. His face reddened with heated anger. “Bastard! What do you want?”

  “Oh-ho-ho!” Flick smiled widely. “Care for this one do you?” Flick grabbed on to Tara’s ponytail and yanked it back hard to pull her face up. “Good, good! That will make this easy then. All I want is a fair trade.”

  Brom’s face was also contorted in an angry glare aimed at Flick. “T’jaros don’t know what the word fair means.”

  “My, my, my.” Flick leaned down and tugged Tara further up by her hair. He set his bristled cheek against her soft skin. “Looks like that one cares for you as well, eh lovely? With a pretty face like yours, all alone out there in space, you must have the run of them, eh? Bet you just love batting those eyelashes and getting treated like a queen.”

  Tara clenched her teeth in the pain from her scalp and stomach, but she managed to spit in Flick’s general direction. “I’d love to take a bat to your face. I’m sure it’d be an improvement.”

  “Oh-ho!” Flick held on to Tara’s bound wrists and laughed. “I like it rough anyway, princess!”

  Hank cursed. This was getting out of hand. “Flick, what do you want to trade?”

  Flick licked his lips hungrily. “As much as I’d love to take this feisty little mare for a ride, I have a bounty to collect, which sadly isn’t for this girl. I want the Vesparian.”

  Hank looked over at Orynn, who nodded and started to stand. Ethan grabbed her wrist and drew her back down and protectively toward him. “Absolutely not.”

  Brom looked over Hank’s shoulder. “Ethan’s right. Trading one hostage for another is no deal. Those T’jaros will just kill Tara anyway. We need to think of something else.”

  “Agreed.” Hank furrowed his brow and glanced around at the hangar to try and spot an opportunity.

  “Patience is not one of my stronger qualities, Captain.” Flick taunted in a sing-song voice. He pulled out a large bowie knife, held it up to Tara’s cheek and slid it across her skin. A thin line of blood appeared as Flick trailed the knife down to her throat. “Though I ‘spose I could play with this little toy while you think things ov..”

  Flick’s words were cut off by a squealing scream behind him. He turned to find the portly T’jaros man dangling in midair with the hilt of a knife in his gut. The man dropped with a heavy thunk as the man beside him doubled over in pain. The blade of another knife broke through the man’s back, then ripped sideways, slicing him almost in half. Tara screamed at the sight and Hank’s group brought their heads up over the crates.

  Flick’s confusion turned to rage. “What the fuck is this?”

  Blood splattered from the torso as it ripped sideways to the ground, a look of surprise permanently etched onto the face of the dead man. The blood fell against an unseen solid object, which moved on to the next man in line as the T’jaros began to panic. The next target flailed wildly as he was lifted off the ground by an invisible force. His eyes were wide with terror and he grabbed towards whatever demon had grabbed him. His hands felt cloth and ripped at it, pulling back the hood on Merik’s reflective cloaking jacket. Merik gave the man a cold demon-worthy grin before separating his head from his shoulders with one fluid motion of his knife.

  “About time you showed up!” Ethan called out over the crates.

  Merik took a pause from disemboweling the next man to flash his fanged grin in Ethan’s direction. “You know how I like to make an entrance.”

  “Fuck sakes, they have a Trexen!” Flick tightened his grip on Tara and edged away from the carnage. “Well don’t just stand there, dogs! Shoot him! They are worth four times their weight in utarium dead or alive! Whoever makes the kill gets triple the normal percentage.”

  That spurred the T’jaros back into the fight, their fear being overridden by their love for profit. Their clumsy greed-fueled actions were like fish floundering in a dry lakebed compared to the way Merik moved effortlessly between them. Watching Merik fight was a mesmerizing dance of connected purpose filled actions mixed with a cruel brutality. He knew every move his opponent was about to make before they could finish forming the thought in their mind.

  He reveled in making his knives cut through flesh and bone before the look of recognition could make it to their faces. When their eyes flashed with the understanding of their mortality and that final gasp of life passed their lips, their minds erupted with a brilliant barrage of colors before becoming eternally silent. It was like a drug to the Trexen and Merik was in ecstasy.

  “We plan’n to let him have all the fun, Cap’?” Brom raised his gun and took aim at a T’jaros heading toward Merik’s back with a raised blade. The man dropped the blade as the blast from Brom’s gun hit him in the chest and knocked him back a few paces.

  “Not while I’m still breathing.” Hank stood and raised his gun. He wasn’t a dead on shot, but he was accurate enough to take two of the pirates out of the fight. More came forward to take their place. “How many of these cockroaches are there?”

  “Enough!” Flick’s screeching voice echoed across the hangar followed by the unmistakable high pitched whine of an S.T.V. grenade being armed. The single-target-vaporizer was a ruthlessly lethal weapon given its small size, and Flick held it up for everyone to see as they all paused in mid action. He detached the remote detonator from the grenade before dropping it into Tara’s shirt.

  It nestled into her bra between her breasts and Tara’s whole body went rigid. She let out a nervous breath and looked to Hank, who could only look back helplessly.

  Merik growled and dropped the corpse of his most recent victim. He made several quick strides toward Flick, then stopped.

  “Oh-ho-ho there, Trexen.” Flick tapped the controller against his head. “I know you can see in my head that I have every intention of using this little beauty.” Flick planted a kiss against Tara’s cheek. “Now then, Captain, about my fair trade?”

  “Deal.” Orynn slid her wrist from Ethan’s grasp. Ethan immediately stood in front of her and started to protest. She held a finger to his lips and shook her head. “Do not forget who I am, Ethan.”

  “What was that now?” Flick squinted across the hangar. “A deal?”

  Orynn turned to Hank and lightly touched his shoulder. “Tara will be alright, Hank. I swear to you.”

  “Nice of you to finally join the party.” Merik’s grin deepened as Orynn stepped around the containers. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed her body
. “Love the outfit. I was beginning to think you didn’t want to play with us.”

  Orynn turned her eyes to Merik. She could feel the ecstasy pouring from him, even as it dripped from his fingers with the blood of his victims. She could see he wanted to tear Flick apart, but she also recognized a concern for Tara’s safety present in him. He was a ruthless killer, artfully skilled in the task, but he also had a conscious. He was a perfectly complex paradox and she found him very intriguing. His powerful presence was impossible to ignore, and as his eyes surveyed her, she found it hard not to be pulled in by it.

  “I did not want to interfere with your apparent enjoyment of making pirates bleed.”

  “One does what one must.” Merik flashed Orynn his top and bottom fangs and raised both eyebrows at her tauntingly. He knew his brutality could be equally matched by a Vesparian, and he desired deeply to witness it. He wanted to see her in her raw essence and drink in the natural beauty of it. He couldn’t deny that the thought of it aroused him.

  “One does.” Orynn gave Merik a curt nod. She could feel the black seething tendrils of his aura twisting around her, trying to push her over the edge of her control. It was dangerously tempting.

  “Stop fucking ignoring me!” Flick held the remote up and stomped his foot.

  Orynn shifted her gaze to the pathetic man and started walking towards him. “As you wish.”

  “Psst! Flick!” One of the T’jaros tried to get his attention. “That’s the Black Bitch!”

  “Don’t come any closer, girly.” Flick took a step back and tightened his grip on Tara. “I’ll vaporize her right here. I’ll turn her to ash in the wind, I will.”

  “No, you will not.” Orynn continued her straight path to Flick and he froze in place. “You are going to remove the grenade from her shirt.”

  “No I...” Flick stuttered as his hand started moving to Tara’s shirt. “I am?”

  Orynn caught the disgusted expression in Tara’s eyes as Flick’s hand brushed her collar bone. “If you touch her skin, it would greatly displease me.”