Armageddon

Clone Wars: Armageddon by Kaitlyn O'Connor

New Concepts Publishing www.newconceptspublishing.com

Copyright ©2006 by Kaitlyn O'Connor

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Clone Wars: Armageddon by Kaitlyn O'Connor

Clone Wars: ARMAGEDDON By Kaitlyn O'Connor © copyright February 2006, Kaitlyn O'Connor Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright February 2006 ISBN 1-58608-819-x New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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Chapter One "Give us the names of the others." Lena Silverstone managed to pry her eyelids up a fraction of an inch. It didn't help much. The room she found herself in was dim and completely unfamiliar. Shadows moved about it, but she wasn't certain whether the shadows were people or just shadows. Frowning in concentration as she tried to focus her blurring vision, she turned the demand over in her mind, trying to figure out what he was talking about, where she was, and why she was in this unfamiliar place. Someone grabbed her by her hair, jerking her head back until the base of her skull cracked against something hard and metallic—the back of the seat she was strapped to, her mind supplied. She winced as the blow and the tugging at her scalp sent pain through her nerve endings. "Names! Give us some names!" the command came again. Her thoughts were disjointed but finally a fact emerged. She'd been drugged. It wasn't just her vision that was out of focus. Her mind wandered drunkenly from one thing to another. Her tongue and lips felt swollen and numb. "Uders?" she finally managed to emit the sounds though they were slurred, as if she'd had one shot too many of hard liquor. "The underground." The words were terse, almost violent. Despite the drug, her heart gave a little leap of fear. "Doan know," she muttered after several aborted attempts, too confused to figure out what they were talking about. 4

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The man holding her hair slammed her head into the chair back again and released his grip abruptly. The pain that hadn't even subsided exploded into harder, pulsating waves. When the man released her, Lena's head fell forward. It felt too heavy for her neck to support it. "What do you think?" "I think we gave her too much," responded another voice. The new voice penetrated Lena's half stupor. She rolled her head to one side and struggled to focus her vision and her attention, knowing instinctively that the conversation was of utmost importance to her. "Or maybe not enough? She's a stubborn bitch." "Don't be stupid. If we kill her now we won't get anything out of her. Look at her. She hardly knows where she is." "Maybe she really doesn't know anything?" the first man said slowly. "Get your mind off your dick." "What?" There was a mixture of amusement and anger in the single word question that captured Lena's attention. Dimly, she realized there was an underlying threat in the direction the conversation had taken. She just wasn't entirely sure of what that was. "We've only just started questioning her. Until we get what we can from her, or know for sure that she doesn't have anything to give us, they won't be handing her over to you." "I could break her," the first man offered. A shiver traveled through Lena then and she suddenly knew what he was talking about with crystal clarity, partly 5

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because she'd finally managed to get a good enough look at the man to see his expression. He had the look of a thug— close set eyes, a hardness about his features that said he knew all about cruelty and he enjoyed it. He was dark, hairy, and built like a gorilla. The other man was lean, more of an academic type. She figured he must be there to make sure the interrogation didn't go too far. There was a light in the ceiling above the chair she was strapped to. It acted like a spotlight, throwing a ring of light around her and leaving the perimeter of the room in dimness, but she could see that the room was little more than a cubicle and the walls, floor and ceiling were made of materials to deaden sound. That realization sent another shiver through her. "Just take her back to her cell for now. Next time I'll give her a smaller dose." The gorilla man was angry when he unstrapped her restraints. He slapped her hard enough it rattled her teeth. "Wake up, little bird. Time to go back to your cage." Lena struggled to get up before he slapped her again. He didn't wait for her to manage it, however. Grabbing one arm, he dragged her out of the chair. Her legs felt like limp noodles. She couldn't seem to lock her knees or manage even a wobbling step. Ignoring her difficulties, he dragged her when she sprawled on the floor. The icy cold steel tiles sent a jolt through her, reviving her slightly. When he paused at the door, she struggled to get to her feet. The man shifted his grip, wrapping one hard arm around her chest, just beneath her breasts. She managed a half a dozen steps before he 6

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began dragging her again down an impossibly long, wavering corridor than seemed to undulate like rolling breakers. Doors opened off the vein sporadically, but all of them were closed and Lena was in no condition in any case to figure out what the rooms might be for. They paused again at a set of double doors when they reached the end of the corridor. Seconds later, the doors slid silently open, revealing another cubicle very little smaller than the one they'd just left. Dragging her inside, the man released her, allowing her to slump to the floor, and punched a glowing button. The doors slid shut and the sensation of rapid movement that followed made Lena's head swim even worse. Settling with a sharp jolt, the doors opened again. This time the man hauled her to her feet and slung her over his shoulder. She thought for several moments she might be ill as her head swam sickeningly. She fought the nausea, partly because she wasn't certain she could stop if she got started and partly because she figured he would react violently to having her puke down his back. She gave up on trying to see anything, squeezing her eyes closed to help battle the dizziness. Around her, she heard whispers—the voices of both men and women—but she could only catch a word here and there and the whispers told her nothing more than the fact that there were other people nearby. She opened her eyes when the man halted at last and managed to get a quick glimpse of the area around her as she was set on her feet. The next moment, she was shoved through a narrow door. The door slammed closed and she found herself in yet another tiny cubicle. This one 7

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contained two bunks stacked one on top of the other. The woman sprawled on the bottom bunk eyed her with hostility. Her attitude was plainly territorial, and Lena looked up at the top bunk a little hopelessly. It took some maneuvering but she finally managed to hoist herself up onto the bunk and collapsed. Her head was still swimming. She closed her eyes, gripping the hard mattress on either side of her. After a while, the nausea eased off. The disorientation from the drug didn't abate appreciably. She found herself struggling to make sense of her disjointed thoughts, going back over and over to the questions that had been bellowed at her and the argument between the two men. The men had been wearing uniforms of some sort, she finally realized. She was in an institution of some kind. Mental hospital? Prison? The drugs seemed to indicate a mental hospital, but everything else that she could recall seemed to contradict that. Why would they interrogate a mental patient? For that matter, why would they interrogate a prisoner? Presumably, one did not end up in prison until one had been tried and convicted for a crime. The word crime prompted a sickening flood of memories. She was in prison. She'd been sentenced to life—for killing herself. **** Three months earlier 8

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The tube shuttle jolted to a halt and doors all along its length slid open. Every passenger in the car Lena occupied tensed, as if fearful that someone would leap on, or that they might be grabbed and shoved out. Lena was the only passenger in the car who got to her feet and moved to the door, stepping through moments before the doors slid shut once more and the shuttle shot from the platform towards its next destination. She ignored the stares of the other passengers who looked her over speculatively as she got off. She knew what sorts of things were running through their minds. Station 157 opened to the worst part of Grand City, an area devastated by the hundred years storms and inhabited by the poorest of the poor; derelicts, druggies, thieves, and murderers. Ground zero for the worst of the famine riots thirty years earlier, this part of Grand City looked like what it was, a war zone, and although she was always careful to dress in her most worn clothing when she went to visit Morris, she knew from the way the denizens of the area studied her that she still stuck out like a cotton bowl in a mound of pig shit. The commuters were wondering what business she could possibly have that would take her into such an area. It wasn't business that had brought her though. Focusing her attention on the cracked pavement as much because she wanted to avoid tripping over any of the debris that littered the ground as because she knew it was best not to see anything going on around her, Lena headed toward the stone stairs that led up from the tube system to ground level. 9

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She'd tried for years to convince Morris to leave this area of the city, but he was a stubborn old coot. No amount of reasoning, begging, or threatening would move him so much as a hair. He'd been born here, in the days, so he claimed, when it was a respectable part of the city. She found it hard to believe the area had ever been reputable, and yet she couldn't deny that there were some signs to support Morris' claim. The shuttle tube had been built to run through here, and the area had its own terminal. There were also signs that the broken shells of buildings that still stood had once been handsome structures. Care and craftsmanship had gone in to their construction and she supposed that wouldn't have been the case if the area had always been mean. A knot of young caucs were loitering across the street from the tube entrance when she emerged. In her own area of the city she wouldn't even have noticed. Here, things were very different and it went well beyond the poverty and crime of the area. It was a cauc enclave and rumor had it that the place was as rife with rebels as it was other lawbreakers. She tried not to think about that. In a way, it was actually kind of sad to see them huddled in miserable knots of humanity, trying to find common ground for some sort of unity. They were a lot like the gangs that had formed in the way back, she supposed, desperate to find a place where they felt like they fit in—desperate enough they were willing to do pretty much anything to get that particular kind of high—rob, deal, kill. 10

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Like the spokes of a wheel, this entire area of the city was sectioned off in territories. The caucs held the hub. The tino enclave lay several blocks to the east, the indy to the west and the negs to the south. They were bloods. Anybody that could claim, and prove, to be at least 45 percent pure racial lineage could belong to the elite. Between the spokes were the breeds, those who belonged to two or more of the groups through breeding, but actually belonged to none since no one else would accept them. There were only three things they all had in common: poverty, misery, and rebellion. Morris was a rebel—not in the sense that he was active in opposing the government and breaking the law, but in his views. She was fairly certain, though, that in the way back, when he had been young, strong, and virile, he had been a force to be reckoned with. She didn't know why she loved the ornery old coot! He was the most argumentative person she knew. He was also a blood and a purist and very outspoken about it. She couldn't count the number of times he'd lectured her about the beauty and sanctity of the purity of the races, how important it was to hold on to the things they had left that set them apart, those special traits that made them unique from one another. He was going to give her hell when he noticed what she'd done with her hair. Lena sighed, flicking a nervous glance around her to make certain no one was paying her too much attention as she 11

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turned from the tube entrance and began to walk briskly along the broken, uneven sidewalk toward Morris' place. She was such a chicken! She hadn't been to see Morris in months, not since she'd decided to go to the lab and have her hair done. It wasn't like the decision was pure impulse. She'd thought it over long and hard before she'd finally decided that it was ridiculous to cling to hair that was giving her pure hell only because it was a unique racial trait when she could have it genetically altered to something more manageable. It was all very well to stick to nature if nature had provided well for one, but she'd hated the way her hair broke so badly every time she tried to grow it long and she'd hated the way it crimped up every time she washed it. Besides, anybody could tell just from looking at her that there'd been more than one cauc in her family woodpile! She'd been born with blue eyes, for god's sake! She hadn't had those done at the lab. For that matter, her brother Nigel had blue eyes, which meant a thick cauc genetic link and made her doubt Morris knew what he was talking about when he insisted she and Nigel were bloods. No one but Morris seemed to think they were pure negs anyway! It occurred to her as she reached the corner that she was thinking up arguments to try to pacify Morris and she knew that just wasn't going to happen. Maybe he wouldn't notice, she thought hopefully? She hadn't changed the color, just slightly altered the texture and strand strength. 12

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She discovered that she'd been so deep in thought that she'd reached the building where Morris lived with no memory of even walking the two blocks from the station. A jolt of uneasiness went through her. This was not the sort of place to walk around in a distracted fog! When she glanced around, she discovered that the cauc youths she'd noticed when she'd left the terminal had followed her. A knot of fear formed in her throat. They saw it—or smelled her fear like animals of prey smelled it in their victims. One, a tall, painfully skinny boy with stringy blond hair, stepped from the sidewalk. Giving up her pretense of unconcern, Lena shot through the door of the building and raced across the lobby to the rickety stairs. She could hear shouts behind her as she reached the stairs and headed up them at an incautious clip. By the time she reached the second landing, she heard the pounding of a half a dozen feet against the hard floor of the lobby, racing toward the stairs. Thankfully, Morris was only three levels up. Reaching the door to the stairwell, she yanked it open and dashed down the hall, praying she wouldn't discover that Morris was out. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her breath rushing in and out of her chest painfully when she began to hammer frantically at Morris' door. Just as the door to the stairwell opened, Morris' door was yanked open, a hand fisted around her forearm and she was jerked inside. Gasping for breath, frightened witless, Lena had already thrown herself into the 13

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man's arms before she realized the hard chest beneath her cheek didn't belong to Morris. Heady sensations washed over her. His scent was clean and as appealingly manly as the hardness of the chest she burrowed against and the strength of the arms that tightened around her. To her surprise, the arms tightened more when she realized her mistake and struggled to push herself away from him. The face she looked up into was as purely cauc as Morris' own, but far younger and a great deal more handsome. His expression, however, was grim, his blue eyes stormy with both desire and something else she couldn't quite interpret. Dragging her gaze from his, she spotted Morris, who'd pushed himself from his easy chair and was standing tensely in the center of his living room. "Morris?" "Lena! What in the world are you doing here, baby girl?" Almost reluctantly, the arms around her loosened and the stranger stepped away. "We'll continue our discussion later," the stranger said, his deep voice sending shivers of awareness through Lena. She glanced up at him again even as he turned away, pulled the door open and went out, closing the door firmly behind him. A wave of disappointment went through her at his abrupt departure. The temptation arose to jerk the door open and peer out at him, to see if he was as gorgeous as she'd imagined, but she killed the impulse forming. For one thing, 14

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she could hear the pack of cauc youths thundering along the hall. For another—well, if he'd been even nearly as interested in her as she was him, he wouldn't have taken off like his coat tails were on fire. "Who was that?" she asked instead of answering Morris' question. He frowned, but finally shook his head. Turning, he shuffled toward his favorite chair and settled in it heavily. "Just a neighbor. Bolt the door. I expect he'll give those ruffians what for and send them on their way, but there's no sense in borrowing trouble." Since she was already in the act of doing just that, Lena finished securing the multitude of locks on his door and followed him into the living room. When she'd leaned down to kiss his weathered cheek and hugged him, she sat on the lumpy couch across from him. "I haven't seen you in months. I missed you, you old goat," she said as she settled, her voice chiding. "That's not much of a greeting." The look in his eyes was almost vague, but at her comment he seemed to shake off whatever thoughts were distracting him. "Thought I'd finally drilled some sense into you. You're going to get hurt if you keep traipsing down here. This is no place for you." Lena frowned. "It's no place for you, either. Why won't you move in with me? I got a bigger apartment just so I'd have an extra room." He smiled at that, but grimly. "Because I've no business on the other side, and you know that, too. The gov would be 15

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down on both of us so fast it would make your head swim, baby girl." "I'm not a baby anymore," Lena muttered. She'd been so confident when she'd gotten the two bedroom apartment that she could talk Morris into coming to live with her! She'd been certain she could appeal to his intense protectiveness toward her. In this instance, unfortunately, it was his concern for her safety that had convinced him she would be better off with his absence than his presence. Morris peered at her, his old eyes suddenly keen. "What've you done to your hair?" Lena grimaced. "Come on, Morris, don't start that again." "Start what?" he growled. "You've been down to that damned clinic, haven't you, baby girl? Didn't I tell you to stay away from that place? God knows what kind of experiments the gov is carrying on there, but you can be damned sure it ain't something you want to be a part of!" Sighing inwardly, Lena sought patience. "Nigel is a tech there. You know that. And they keep his nose to the grind stone. About the only time I get to see my big brother is when I go. And it isn't a gov facility. You know that, too." He shook his head. "Lena, child, you're a beautiful girl, a credit to your race. Why the hell would you let them take some of that away from you?" Lena could feel a guilty blush climbing into her cheeks, but irritation surfaced. She released a huff of anger. "I'm a breed, Morris. I'm not a blood. I'm not any more pure than anybody else on the other side. Anyway, it was just cosmetic. I got 16

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tired of spending half my day trying to get my damned hair to do what I wanted it to." He snorted, but shook his head. "Everything is too easy these days. That isn't a good thing. Hard as the old days were, struggle gave folks strength. The whole human race is going to go down the tubes if they let the gov take all their strength and treat them like infants." She ought to have known the moment he noticed her hair he was going to go off on one of his gov conspiracy rants. "If you'd come to the other side of the city with me sometime you'd see everybody works hard. We're not being pampered to death." Of course she supposed she didn't have a lot of room to talk. She was a gov employee, a historian, and it wasn't the sort of job that made one break a sweat. She wasn't even a field tech. All she did all day was work on restoring the artifacts that were found, analyzing them, and recording her impressions. Oddly enough, it was Morris—a cauc and died in the wool purist—who'd inspired her choice of profession, not the parents she could barely remember. He'd raised her and Nigel, though, and taught them pride in their heritage and she'd thought the best way to demonstrate that pride was to preserve the history of their race. It helped that she was actually fascinated by her people's roots. Theirs was a long, long history of struggle. In the end, they'd pretty much been absorbed in the melting pot like all of the other races, but their unique genetic traits were as strong as the cauc's at the other end of the spectrum. In spite of generations of cross 17

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breeding, many of their special traits remained preserved in the gene pool. Another wave of guilt went through her when she realized she'd been more interested in pleasing Morris in her choice of profession than because of any real sense of heritage. And the worst of it was, he hadn't been particularly pleased—not when he discovered she would be employed by the gov he hated with a passion. Morris snorted, but to her surprise dismissed it after that short spurt of disapproval. "I wish you hadn't, but it's done now and you're stuck with it. If I catch you going down to that place again, though, I'll tan your backside for you! You might think you're too grown up for it, but you're still my baby girl!" Lena was torn between amusement, love, and indignation at the threat. "Just to see Nigel sometimes. I promise." To her surprise and alarm, his face crumpled. "Not even for that, Lena. Promise me you'll stay away from that place. I know you think my hate has turned my mind, but there's something going on there." In a general way, Lena tended to turn a deaf ear to all of Morris' talk about conspiracy, but there was real fear in his eyes that sent a current through her. Anger followed it. "That guy that was here—he's a rebel, isn't he?" Morris turned so pale Lena was alarmed. She jumped to her feet and rushed to him. "Morris?" With an effort, he seemed to recover himself, but she was more alarmed than reassured when he pulled her down on his 18

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lap and cuddled her just as he had when she was a small child. "There are rumors." She was way too old to behave like a little girl, and Morris was too old now for her to be planting her weight in his lap, but he'd scared her when he turned so white. She'd been certain it was his heart. Instead of struggling up, she settled against him, nestling her head against his shoulder. "There are always rumors," she murmured soothingly. "I'm a historian, remember? I may not have been around until after the hundred years of storms and the famine riots, but I've read all of the documentation. It was nature that caused the famine. The gov did all that was humanly possible." Morris made a rude noise. "Sure they did. It was for our own protection that they rounded everybody up into camps. I taught you to think for yourself, baby girl, not to just believe whatever crap the gov decides to feed the public." "I do think for myself. Everybody was responsible for the imbalance of nature that caused the hundred years of storms. Maybe the gov had a hand in it because they were more focused on the economy than the environment and didn't protect us like they should have, but they didn't make the storms. And it was the storms that made it impossible to produce enough food to feed people." "The gov was responsible," Morris said irritably. "They taught people to behave like children and let them make all of the decisions for them—and they made the wrong decisions! Those poor decisions were directly responsible for the imbalance that caused the storms. And they didn't stop there. 19

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When the people were starving and fighting for survival, they turned our armies against us." "I know. You're right," Lena said quietly. "But that was a long time ago. Most of it happened even before your time. Things have changed." Morris stroked her back soothingly as he had when she was a child. "They have at that, but not for the better."

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Chapter Two Three weeks later "You're starting to scare the shit out of me, Morris," Lena muttered, chaffing her palms along her upper arms as she paced his tiny living room and stared out of the grimy window at the streets below. "Language, Lena Marie!" Morris growled. A mixture of guilt, amusement, and irritation flooded Lena. She turned away from the window to study him. "I learned it from you! Quit trying to distract me. Are you in to something?" she asked, returning to the couch and sitting down to face him. Morris frowned, studying the worn patches of rug beneath his feet. "When did you get to be the adult around here? You think I'm so old you can boss me around like a child?" This time only guilt and irritation surfaced. She couldn't tell if he was up to something or if it was just the same old Morris, still predicting the end of the world by gov conspiracy. It didn't matter what happened, or who was responsible, or even if anyone was responsible. Morris always picked every event apart and discovered the gov's hand in it. She couldn't decide why she felt like this time it was different. She hadn't been able to sleep easy since she'd visited him last. Morris had always been protective. Ever since the day he'd found her and her brother, mostly starved, and hiding in an alley because they were too scared to come out and even 21

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look for food, he'd been fiercely protective of them, especially her, either because she was the youngest, or because of his old fashioned views on 'weak' females. There'd been something unnerving about the way he'd behaved the last time she'd come to visit him though, something she couldn't figure out, but also couldn't put out of her mind. Ok, so she also couldn't get that blond god out of her mind either and maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd more than half hoped she'd run into him again. Morris wouldn't be happy about her interest in him, though, and she didn't quite dare bring him up. It occurred to her that she had the perfect excuse for bringing the stranger up, though. "That guy that was here when I came last time—is he trying to get you mixed up in something?" Morris gave her a wide eyed stare of innocence and then frowned, as if he was struggling to recall an elusive memory. "What guy?" Lena gave him a look. "The one that manhandled me at the door. I'm not buying this, Morris." Morris gave up the attempt to pretend his memory was faulty. "Seemed to me you was doing a bit of wallowing there. What's your interest in my neighbor?" he asked sharply. Lena felt a blush rising in her cheeks in spite of all she could do. "Nothing as long as he isn't trying to get you in trouble," she lied. "Liar. I saw the way the two of you looked each other over. I may be old, but I ain't senile and I ain't blind. Don't 22

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even be thinking about it. The guy's cauc, as pure as can be found in this day and time. You promised me you'd give me some beautiful neg grandbabies to dandle on my knee—you and Nigel both. The young shouldn't have the ability to breed. They're too thoughtless. Got nothing on their mind but hot blood when they ought to be considering what they're passing down to their offspring." Full fledged embarrassment swept through Lena. Even her eyeballs felt hot. "Morris! I never said I wanted to—uh—I'm not lusting over him, for god's sake! I don't even know him!" Morris snorted. "It's a chemical bonfire, baby girl. It ain't got nothing to do with knowing somebody!" Lena came to her feet and began to pace the room in agitation. Finally, finding herself in front of the couch again, she plopped down on it. It took an effort to paste a smile on her full lips. "Good try. If you're not up to something, why won't you come stay with me? I promise not to bother you. You'll have your own room to yourself and I'm at work most of the time, so you'd have the apartment to yourself except in the evenings. You're getting skinny. You need somebody to cook for you." Morris laughed with real humor. "You got somebody in mind? Cause the last I noticed cooking wasn't one of your special talents, baby girl." Lena gave him a look. "I happen to think I'm pretty good. You taught me to cook!" "Exactly!" he shot back at her. "So if my own cooking is making me skinny, yours ain't going to help!" 23

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Lena sighed, but when she'd glanced at her time piece, she got to her feet. "I have to go. But I'll give you fair warning I'm not giving up on this. I'm going to keep on pestering you till you give in." Morris pushed himself from his chair, pulled the antiquated gun he carried around with him for protection from under the chair and shoved it into his pants pocket. "I'll walk you to the terminal. You'd make me happier if you'd quit coming here at all. You're too pretty to walk alone around here." Lena didn't argue with him. They both knew it wasn't safe. If she looked like the south end of a north bound mule it would still be dangerous. "When you come to live with me I won't have any reason to come here," she pointed out as they headed out of the apartment and paused in the hallway for Morris to secure all of his locks. Morris sent her a piercing glance. "I love you, too, Lena Marie. When I get too old and ornery to take care of myself, I might let you drag me home with you like a stray." They met up with the blond stranger when they reached the second landing. Lena's heart executed a peculiar little flip flop when she saw him mounting the stairs toward them. Her blood began to sing in her ears and disjointed thoughts collided in her head. Should she just smile politely and nod? What if he stopped Morris to talk? Could she say anything at all without making herself look like a complete idiot? She was still scrambling for something clever to say when he looked up. Heat flashed through her and then cold, and then heat again as his deep blue eyes locked with hers. A 24

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wave of dizziness followed. It was almost like hitting an invisible wall, stunning, completely disorienting. His gaze flickered over her assessingly as they came abreast and then he glanced at Morris. The two men nodded and moved past each other as if they'd never met. Lena was still in a state of shock when Morris shoved her into the car of the shuttle and the doors closed behind her. **** One month later Morris was smiling when he opened the door. Lena felt her jaw go slack as her gaze traveled over the neatly slicked back hair, his clean shaven face, and down the neatly tucked tunic he was wearing, to his shined shoes. "Baby girl! Come in! Come on in. Don't just stand in the hall." Like a sleepwalker, Lena allowed him to lead her into the apartment. The sense of disorientation increased as she wandered into the living room and stood in the middle of the floor, staring around at it as if she'd never seen the place before while Morris secured the locks on the door. It was spotless. The smell dominating the area was of cleanser, not the musty smell of dust and clutter, and the combined odors of cooked food from many meals. "I've been giving a lot of thought to your invitation to come live with you and it finally occurred to me that that was the only way I could get you to stop risking your neck coming here." 25

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Lena turned and stared at Morris blankly. It looked like Morris. The man even sounded like Morris, at least his voice did. Nothing coming out of his mouth sounded like her Morris, though. As stunned as she was, Lena noticed a flicker of something in his eyes that set warning bells to clamoring in her head. She forced a smile. "I knew you'd come around," she managed to say, though her voice didn't sound like her own, sounded distant to her ears. She licked suddenly dry lips. "You're serious? You're going to come with me?" He grinned, gesturing toward the packed suitcase sitting on the floor by the bedroom door. A hard wave of nausea washed over Lena. For several moments she thought she was going to throw up, or burst into tears. Moisture flooded her eyes. "I'm so happy," she murmured when he gave her a questioning look. "This is—this is so great! It'll be like old times." She wished she hadn't thrown that last comment in for good measure. It brought the urge to burst into tears so close it squeezed the breath from her lungs. Numbly, she watched as he hefted the suitcase and turned to look at her expectantly. "You're ready?" she asked blankly. He looked around. "Nothing of any importance around here. I've got my best clothes packed, and grooming supplies." "What about the gun?" Something flickered in his eyes, but he merely chuckled. "That old thing hasn't worked in years. I tossed it." 26

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Nodding, Lena led the way out again. She had no idea what she said on the way to the shuttle terminal. Thankfully, the car was crowded when she and Morris climbed on. She fell silent, grateful for a respite, staring absently at the other passengers, at the blurred view beyond the windows that was little more than streaks of lights and the concrete walls of the tube until they surfaced beyond old city and shot skyward toward the skyline segment of the tube that traversed the newer areas of Grand City. Morris, she discovered, was babbling about seeing the sights. She smiled in what she thought was all of the appropriate places. A coldness had begun to creep over her that she couldn't shake. Surreptitiously, she kept glancing at Morris— his hands, his build, his weathered face—his clothing, his neat hair. Morris had never been slovenly. He was very particular about good hygiene and he bathed and groomed with regularity. Beyond that, though, he wasn't a primper and he tended to be very careless in his appearance. He bathed. He raked the tangles from his hair every morning, brushed his teeth, shaved—thereafter, he didn't give his appearance a thought. He wore whatever was clean, no matter how it clashed with other articles of clothing or how threadbare or ragged it might be. Once he'd combed his hair, he didn't touch it, which meant it was all over the place within hours of rising, and he didn't cut it until it began to be a nuisance— most often sawing it off himself with haphazard results. 27

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Lena wanted, badly, to think that Morris had gone to so much trouble to groom himself so that he'd be a credit to her. She didn't believe it for one moment, though, simply because she knew it would never occur to Morris that he wasn't. Wild thoughts kept tumbling through her mind. He hadn't made one comment about the gov—not one, not even when they'd passed the building on the way to the terminal that had anti-gov sentiments painted all over it. As the shuttle halted at her stop and she got up from her seat like a robot and followed the line of people getting off, something Morris had told her months ago popped into her head. He'd said rumors had begun to circulate that the gov was replacing people with their clones, clones that had been carefully programmed to conform to gov policies. She'd actually laughed when he'd told her that because it was just so ridiculous even to consider such a thing. In the first place, cloning humans was illegal. It had always been illegal, and it was unnecessary anyway for growing replacement organs. If anyone needed a replacement, they could grow the organ. They didn't need to invest the time and money into growing a whole person, and the economy was still in horrible shape. Even after years and years of struggling, things were only just returning to normal. No way could the gov afford that kind of project. A private company, maybe, but not the gov, which had gone bankrupt during the famine riots and still hadn't recovered. 28

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And why would a private company want to do such a thing? Or feel the need for such a thing? It would take years and years of research—illegal research that they would've had to keep secret all that time and there was no profit in it that she could see. Besides, clones couldn't be an exact replica of a person. People were too complex. Their personalities were developed and shaped by their life experiences. Sure, she supposed with enough research they might be able to copy a person, and they could use the same accelerating techniques they used to produce mature organs to develop them before the person they were copying died of old age, but they'd still just be an imitation. The moment they began talking and interacting with others, people who knew them well would know it wasn't the person it was supposed to be. She glanced at Morris again as they threaded their way slowly toward the people tubes. He was old. Even she had no idea how old he was, but he remembered the famine riots. He even remembered the last of the great storms. It was ridiculous. The thoughts tumbling through her mind were just plain crazy. Why did she feel like weeping then? Why did she feel like somebody had just ripped her heart out of her chest? Because she knew they'd done something to him. All these years she'd ignored his ramblings, certain that he was just paranoid, but he wasn't the Morris that had been a father to her and her brother. They'd—somebody had—been fucking with his mind. 29

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Or maybe she was just being paranoid? He was old. Maybe he'd had some sort of seizure? Could something like that alter his personality? She smiled at him again when they got into the lift tube and she'd pressed the 45th level. "How long since you had a check up?" she asked tentatively. He frowned at her. "Why would you ask me a thing like that?" he demanded tersely. Lena almost felt better. That sounded a lot more like the Morris she knew and loved. Some of the shock was wearing off, but she didn't feel a whole lot better. "You don't eat right and you're no spring chicken. I'm worried about you. I'd feel a lot better if you'd go in for a check up." He shrugged. "I'll think about it." The urge to burst into tears assailed her again, stinging her nose and eyes. That wasn't like Morris at all. She managed a tremulous smile. "We're going to have such fun together. It'll be like old times." It wouldn't, though. She had a horrible feeling everything that was important to her was already lost and she would never get it back. **** One week later Nigel glanced absently toward the tiny glass window in the door of the procedure room, stared at Lena without recognition for a moment and finally acknowledged her. She mouthed 'meet me for lunch?' motioning with her hands in 30

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the direction of the sidewalk café where they sometimes met to share a meal. Another blank stare greeted that, but finally he nodded, mouthed something back at her and held up ten fingers. Twice. Lena bit her lip but finally nodded. He was with a client. She'd just have to be patient. Mentally reciting the mantra she'd been repeating to herself for a week now—'act normal'—she headed back the way she'd just come. She would've liked to have waited for Nigel outside the procedure room, because she knew how absentminded he could get when he was working. He was always totally focused on his job and probably wouldn't even think to stop and eat at all if not for the chime prompters. She hoped he didn't forget he'd promised to meet her for lunch, but she was afraid to stay because no matter how many times she repeated the mantra in her head she felt— knew she had a tenuous grip on calmness at best. If she stayed, she was going to embarrass her big brother in front of his co-workers at the very least. At worst.... Well, she didn't know how anything could possibly be worse than they were already. Either she'd lost her mind, or Morris wasn't Morris anymore. That didn't even make sense to her, but she could not convince herself, no matter how hard she tried, that the man currently staying in her spare bedroom was the same man that had cared for her and Nigel throughout their childhood. 31

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She also couldn't convince herself that whatever it was that was wrong with him was something natural, the results of some sort of medical problem. Either someone had been screwing with his mind very deliberately, or.... The other possibility was just plain unthinkable. And impossible. He'd managed to deftly evade every attempt she'd made to get him near a clinic. That was very like Morris who hated doctors and distrusted anyone in any kind of authority so that in itself wasn't the part that bothered her. It was the way he went about it that bothered her. He didn't argue. He evaded. Morris loved to argue. She felt as if she was in mourning for a loved one. Almost from the time she'd encountered the complete stranger that was wearing Morris' face she'd felt as if a vice was tightening around her chest cutting off her air. She hardly knew where she was half the time, or what she was doing. The focus of her entire world seemed to have zeroed in on the deep and painful sense of loss she couldn't shake and she was barely aware of anything beyond that narrow scope of pain. When she left the Quasar Corp. building, she stepped off the walk and threaded her way through the clutter of commuters on the south bound people mover. A number of people glared at her for cutting across instead of taking the upper level mover that was heading west, but except for begging pardon and trying harder to avoid collisions, she ignored them. 32

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She was concentrating hard on containing the emotions roiling inside of her, but impatience was eating at her tenuous hold. When she finally reached the walk on the other side, she glanced around at the tables of the café. Spying one tucked into a reasonably private alcove created by a potted plant and a low stone wall, she headed for it. Movement caught her eye before she was halfway across the courtyard and she glanced instinctively toward it. It was a woman and she was headed for the same table. Gritting her teeth, Lena made a dash for the table and plopped down in one of the chairs. "Hey! I was going to sit here!" Feeling abruptly territorial, Lena turned and glared at the woman. "So was I and I did. I was here first." "Because you ran," the woman said sharply. "And?" Lena growled challengingly. It was stupid and she knew it. There were several other tables available. It wasn't as if she'd grabbed the only one. And she knew the other woman had actually been closer than she was and had every reason to feel as if she'd had first dibs. She didn't care. As irrational as she knew it was, as dangerous as it was to argue publicly where they could easily attract the unwelcome attention of the home guard, she almost welcomed the opportunity to strike out at someone for all the pain and confusion that had been dogging her all week. "What's going on here?" 33

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Both Lena and the stranger turned at the sound of Nigel's voice. Lena discovered when she glanced at him that his gaze was on the woman. His expression was hard to decipher, but somehow she had the feeling that he wasn't feeling the same sense of abuse as she was. There was something in his eyes as he looked the woman over that made her feel like squirming uncomfortably in her seat. The woman, after staring at him for a long, long moment, dragged her gaze from his, glared at Lena and finally whirled on her heel and stalked away. Instead of closing the distance between himself and the table where Lena sat, Nigel remained rooted to the spot, watching the woman until she'd threaded her way between the tables and finally disappeared down the side walk. "What was that all about?" the two of them asked almost in unison when Nigel finally shook off his stupor and settled in the chair across from his sister. "Do you know her?" Lena demanded, redirecting the question. Nigel frowned, but his gaze was pensive as he studied his little sister. "I don't think that comes under the heading of your business," he finally growled. "You do know her then? She's a mongrel. Cauc for sure, maybe some indy or tino thrown in to muddy the gene pool." Nigel's face darkened. "I didn't realize you were such a snob." And a hypocrite. She'd been lusting over that cauc she'd seen in Morris' apartment right up until Morris had turned her world upside down and put him from her mind. She sat back 34

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at the snub. She hadn't come to pick a fight with Nigel, or nose into his business. She'd come ... she wasn't sure why she'd come. For reassurance maybe? Nigel seemed to realize they'd gotten off to a bad start about the same time Lena did. "Sorry!" they both said, almost in unison again. They'd done that most of their lives. She supposed it came from being so close. It was almost like telepathy the way their minds seemed almost to flow in sync. "Something's wrong," Nigel said abruptly, sitting forward in his chair as if he'd just noticed the strain in Lena's face. The server bot appeared almost before he got the words out. Lena shook her head and glanced at the menu scrolling across the screen set in the bot's chest. "I'll have a salad—no cheese on that. A chicken breast. A glass of.... "She felt the abrupt urge to get something to numb the pain a little but quashed the impulse. "Purified water," she finished. The bot scanned her retina, recited her credit balance and swiveled toward Nigel. When Nigel had ordered and the bot rotated on its base and headed toward the kitch, he reached across the table and folded his large hand over hers. "What is it, baby girl?" Lena's chin wobbled in spite of all she could do at the pet name both Nigel and Morris had called her most of her life. Tears filled her eyes. Struggling to regain control, Lena looked away from the concern in her brother's eyes. The world wavered and finally righted itself as she firmly tamped her wayward emotions. 35

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The woman she'd vanquished, she saw, had returned and settled at a table on the opposite side of the café, but still within view of her and Nigel. She glanced casually in their direction as Lena watched. Except it didn't seem casual at all to Lena. That certainty brought Lena's feet firmly into reality. They were in public. And if she was even close to right about Morris, it was dangerous to behave as if anything at all was wrong. She returned her attention to Nigel. "You'll think I'm nuts." He uttered a humorless laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood. "There's nothing new about that. What crazy theory have you come up with now on the origins of the races?" Lena shook her head. "This isn't about work. It's about Morris." Several emotions flickered across Nigel's face, alarm prominent among them. "He's still refusing to come live you?" Lena shook her head. "That's just it. He isn't. He moved in with me without a whimper of protest when I went to see him a few days ago." Nigel removed his hand and sat back as the bot returned and set their food out on the table before them. When the server had departed again, Nigel placed his napkin in his lap and picked up his fork. He was frowning thoughtfully, though, and Lena could see he thought that Morris' behavior was as strange as she did. "Maybe he finally realized he was getting to the point where he really needed someone to look after him," he said slowly. 36

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Lena swallowed against a knot in her throat and went through the motions as Nigel had, pretending an interest in her meal she didn't feel. "I was in a state of shock, though." Resisting the urge to glance toward the vid she knew was trained to observe all of the diners, she tried to formulate something to say that would sound innocuous to those who listened but would get her anxieties across to Nigel. "He seems ... happy. He spends all day wandering around East end sightseeing." Nigel's brows rose, but she saw alarm flicker in his eyes again. He managed a shrug. "He hasn't visited this side of Grand City in years. It's changed a lot." Lena forced a smile. "Yes. When I get home in the evenings, he always gives me an account of the improvements he's seen. It's good to see him out and about instead of huddled in front of the vid, watching the news all day. And he's so cheerful and upbeat about absolutely everything that it keeps my spirits high." It was hard to keep the note of hysteria out of her voice when she made that announcement. Nigel stiffened. For a moment his dark skin turned a sickly, pasty shade, and she knew he'd caught the alarm she felt. "I'd thought about taking him to the clinic, but he always makes excuses and I finally realized he's just a ... new man. I guess he just missed the two of us and that was why he always seemed so dispirited when I went to see him before." She could see Nigel was struggling with the hints she'd passed to him. Focusing on her meal, she allowed him to sort 37

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it out in his mind. "I should stop by for a visit," Nigel said finally. "I haven't been to see either one of you in weeks." Lena beamed at him. Relief flooded her, making her feel weak as the tension vanished. "That would be such fun! Tonight? I could stop by the market and pick up something special for dinner." Nigel glanced at his watch. "Sure. I have to work late. I've got five more clients to see today, but I'll come as soon as I'm off and we can catch up." Lena couldn't help but notice that she'd completely demolished Nigel's appetite. She could see he was struggling to maintain a pretense of interest in his food. Guilt flooded her when she realized her own appetite had exerted itself now that she'd shouldered her anxiety off onto him. She wished she could've just explained everything plainly. Nigel might have been able to dismiss her qualms without growing so alarmed himself, but there was no discussing anything private in public if one wanted to keep it private. She'd never found that particularly disturbing before. The gov had vids everywhere to monitor its citizens and prevent crime. It was for their own safety, and it was a comfort to know that, unlike the old days, crime was now almost nonexistent and one could walk most anywhere, at any time of the day or night, without concern for their safety. Not that anyone except the home guard was allowed on the streets after curfew. She supposed she shouldn't worry about being overheard now. It wasn't as if there was anything criminal in anything she might have said. 38

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Yet she had felt real fear about voicing her thoughts and concerns aloud. Maybe the problem was her, not Morris? Maybe she was just growing paranoid?

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Chapter Three Lena felt almost lighthearted as she looked over the displays in the market for something really special to prepare for dinner. After debating with herself for a good ten minutes, she finally decided to splurge and buy a real roast. The vegameat was almost as good, but she hadn't had real meat in at least a month and she doubted Nigel had. Luck was with her. She managed to get the last one available. Ignoring the twinge of guilt that caused her, she collected the sides she had decided to nuke with it from the bin below the display, tucked it all into her tote and headed out of the market again. When she reached the shuttle terminal, she discovered she'd dallied until she'd caught the homeward rush. The platform was packed almost shoulder to shoulder. After checking her time piece several times, she resolutely ignored the minutes ticking off. The shuttle would arrive when it arrived. There was nothing she could do about it unless she opted to walk and that would delay her even more. Patience, she chastised herself. She would still have a good hour to prepare the meal before Nigel could possibly get to her place. Trying to ignore her rising tension and the unpleasant situation of standing in such a closely packed formation that she could feel the body heat of the people around her, smell their combined breaths and the odors that clung to their skin, Lena tipped her head back and glanced toward the opening where the shuttle would appear when it arrived. As she did 40

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so, her gaze locked with that of a man who'd just stepped up on something to look out over the crowd. It was the cauc, the one she'd seen in Morris' place. Even as a heated wave of attraction washed over her, though, it filtered into her mind that he was wearing the uniform of a home guardsman. Pleasure was instantly replaced with alarm as he stepped down from whatever it was he'd been standing on and she could see the crowd ripple as he pushed his way through. He was headed in her direction! Full fledged fear sent a cold wave crashing over her. Her panicked mind refused even to sort the conflicting information rushing through her mind. Acting purely on instinct, Lena began inching her way through the crowd in the opposite direction, trying to keep from looking as panic stricken as she felt and raising an alarm. The shuttle arrived as she neared the edge of the crowd on the platform and before she could prevent it, she was swept with up in the wave of humanity that surged toward the opening doors and into a car. Unable to think clearly at all, Lena continued struggling against the tide. She'd almost reached the doors to get off again when they slammed shut, trapping her inside. As the car shot from the platform, she caught a glimpse of the cauc—still standing on the platform, searching for her face among those who remained to wait for the next shuttle. Weak with relief, Lena glanced around at the car and finally found enough room on a seat to wedge her butt into. 41

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As reaction set in, her rioting thoughts calmed somewhat and she wondered what had possessed her to react as if she was guilty of something. She hadn't done anything. Why had she felt so fearful the very moment she realized he was wearing the uniform of the home guard? Because she was paranoid, she chided herself. It was probably nothing more than that he'd recognized her and wanted to talk to her about Morris for some reason. Maybe he'd wondered what had happened to Morris? He had been looking for someone, though. He'd stepped up on something to give him a better vantage to view the crowd. That didn't necessarily mean he'd been looking for her. But if he'd been looking for someone else, why had he abandoned his search and headed toward her? It occurred to her abruptly that she didn't know he had even targeted her. He had seemed to be looking straight at her, but that didn't mean he had been. She cast her mind back, trying to recall if she'd noticed anyone else who appeared to be attempting to evade him, but discovered that was useless. She'd been too mindless with panic to think at all, and certainly too frightened to notice anyone else. As she emerged from the shuttle at her stop it finally dawned on her why she'd been afraid the moment she'd seen his uniform. Morris had claimed him as a neighbor and the only reason a home guardsman would've been living in old town was because he'd been planted there to ferret out rebels. 42

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That thought instantly sent her into panic mode again and it was all she could do to pretend even a modicum of nonchalance as she headed out of the terminal and turned toward her apartment. As she focused on restraining the urge to run for all she was worth toward the only safe harbor that came to mind, she felt the watchful eye of the vids she passed beneath boring into her like lasers. She'd already reached her apartment building and stepped into the lift tube before it dawned on her that her apartment was the last destination she should have in mind if she really thought they were after her. They could be waiting for her when she got there. But what about Morris? And what about Nigel? They could be blindsided if the home guard really was bent on arresting her for something. There was no stopping the damned lift, though. She'd already punched in her level like a bot before her mind had even begun to make sense of her situation. She wasn't certain it was making sense even now. The sensation of being herded like prey had totally demolished her reasoning ability. She could do little more than allow her instincts to guide her—and her main instinct was to run for cover. The corridor was empty when she reached her level. Goosebumps immediately erupted and chased up her spine. Trying to ignore the alarm that sent through her, Lena's hand tightened on her tote as she strode briskly down the corridor toward her door, her ears pricked for any sound that seemed out of place. 43

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The apartment was empty. She knew that the moment she stepped inside and whirled to bolt the door behind her. "Morris?" She wasn't terribly reassured when she didn't get a response. Striding through the apartment, she dropped the grocery tote on the counter in the kitch and then, after looking around for something she could use to defend herself, searched the apartment with her wooden meat mallet. It wasn't much of a weapon. The thing probably didn't weigh more than a few ounces. At worst, swinging it as hard as she could probably wouldn't cause more damage than a bad bruise, but she had nothing else that looked even vaguely threatening. On the rare occasions that she actually had real meat, she used the laser slicer. The closest thing she had to a knife was her butter knives and she would've had to saw somebody's head off with one of them. The forks were probably more lethal. She was somewhat relieved when she'd reassured herself that she really was alone in the apartment. If, as she'd thought, the home guard was after her for some reason, they would've been waiting for her—probably outside the building, certainly inside the apartment. Those thoughts brought her little comfort though. Ignoring the food she'd abandoned on the counter of her kitch, she began pacing the living area, trying to make sense of her fears. Was she over reacting? Was the only threat in her mind?

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She blushed when it occurred to her to wonder if the guy had merely recognized her and decided to further their acquaintance. That was just wishful thinking, she realized almost at once. They hadn't even been introduced, for god's sake! She seriously doubted he remembered that very brief meeting. Besides, there was no doubt that he had been looking for someone. It wasn't paranoid to assume it was her he'd been after all the time when he'd come straight toward her. He wouldn't have simply abandoned an order to locate someone to flirt with her. Why had he been alone, though? If he'd been sent to find her, or anyone, wouldn't there have been at least one other guard with him? Becoming weary from her pacing and her wrecked emotions, Lena finally paused near the window and glanced at her timepiece. "Shit! Brainless idiot!" she muttered as it abruptly dawned on her that she should have tried to head Nigel off. If there really was trouble and it wasn't all in her mind, he would be heading into it right now when they should both be headed in the other direction. He would've left work by now, she realized. She should've just waited at the terminal. Deciding that was probably her best bet—just in case—she glanced around, wondering if she should worry about taking anything with her. She'd left the food out, she remembered abruptly. As tempted as she was to simply abandon it, she had a deep seated antipathy for wastefulness, especially with something so expensive and hard to get as real meat. Sighing, she 45

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rushed into the kitch, grabbed the tote, and tossed the entire bag inside the refrigeration unit without worrying about unpacking it and sorting it. As she closed the door again, she heard the distinctive sound of the front door lock being deactivated. Torn between alarm that it might be the home guard and hope that it was Morris returning, she dashed into the hallway and skidded to a halt. The woman who stepped through the door and closed it firmly behind her had a laser pistol leveled at her. When she finally managed to drag her gaze from the muzzle of the pistol, a shockwave washed over her. The woman staring back at her wasn't just of the same general build, color, weight, and age as she was. It was her. **** Shock sent Lena's mind instantly spiraling beyond any ability to reason. Nothing but disjointed words flashed in her mind, impossible to connect into a coherent thought. Pure instinct spurred her to flee. Since the woman was blocking the only exit, Lena leapt backwards into the kitchen and beyond her view little more than a split second before an angry red beam seared a hole through the wall directly behind the position Lena had occupied an instant before. Racing around the kitch in a mindless panic, Lena grabbed up and discarded a half a dozen items in a primal need to find something, anything, to defend herself with. Turning up nothing even vaguely lethal, she whirled and hurled the bowl she held in her hand as she heard the scrape of a foot on the 46

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tile at the door of the kitch, diving toward her evil twin at almost the same moment. Luck was with her. The woman jerked a hand up instinctively to shield herself from the flying object. Lena's dive clipped one leg as she sailed through the doorway, knocking the woman off balance. Even as the satisfying thud of meat smacking solidly into tile reached her ears, Lena crumpled against the opposite wall of the hallway. She barely registered the collision that would've been painful if adrenaline wasn't pumping through her body like wildfire. Scrambling to her feet, she slapped her palm against the emergency button set into the wall. A hole appeared in the wall a fraction of an inch from her hand. Lena stared at it a split second and fled away from the fire, into her living room, once more cornering herself with no avenue of escape. Her nemesis, instead of chasing her, planted herself firmly in the doorway between the hall and the living area, leaving Lena with no option other than to race back and forth at one end of the room, trying to dodge the blasts and hoping against hope that the home guard she'd summoned would arrive before the woman managed to get in a clean shot. Almost on the thought a beam raked along her arm, turning the fabric of her sleeve and the outer layers of flesh it touched into ash. She screamed, scooping one of her prized possessions, an ancient stone African fertility god, from its display shelf as she dashed past and hurling it in the general direction of her assailant. A meaty thud, a scream, and the sound of a metallic object striking the floor rewarded her effort. Without registering much more in her mind than the 47

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errant thought that she'd managed to knock the pistol from the woman's hand, Lena charged her attacker, slamming into her hard enough to carry both of them into the wall. Her fingers curled into the tunic the woman was wearing as she felt herself falling. They hit the floor in the hall in a tangle of arms and legs, and fury born of sheer terror sent Lena into a mindless rage of clawing, pummeling, screaming, and biting. She was vaguely aware of receiving almost as many blows as she meted out, but shock cocooned her from feeling any pain. It also shielded her from rational thought. The woman broke free before Lena realized she was trying to reach the weapon she'd dropped. Releasing a sound that was part scream and part animal growl with a mixture of anger and fear, Lean launched herself at the woman again before she could completely break free, struggling to grab the pistol first. Neither of them managed to do anything more than knock the weapon further from their reach. Giving up the effort after a moment, Lean managed to lever herself on top of her assailant, grabbed a handful of hair on either side of the duplicate's head and used the leverage to pound the woman's skull against the floor. The woman screamed, clawing at Lena's hands and digging raw, bloody trenches across the backs. Gritting her teeth, Lena pounded harder. Abruptly, the wiggling form beneath Lena managed to get a knee between the two of them, lifting Lena away and overbalancing her. She fell sideways, losing her grip on one handful of hair. The woman clubbed her on the side of her 48

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head with a balled fist. Pain exploded in Lena's head and she lost her grip completely, pitching into the floor with the second handhold. Disoriented, Lena pushed herself up and launched herself forward as the woman made a dive for the gun again, but moments too late. Her doppelganger's fingers closed around the butt of the weapon. A desperate tussle ensued. Lena managed to grab the arm holding the pistol, but she could not reach the pistol itself. The gun discharged as they struggled, shattering glass, furniture, ceiling tiles, and wallboard as each fought for dominance in a battle where they were evenly matched in strength, weight, and life or death desperation. Lena's focus on the gun hand cost her. Seeing she couldn't break Lena's grip on her arm, the woman began pummeling her again with her fist and finally jerked her knees up, managing to drive a knee into Lena's side hard enough it knocked the breath out of her. It also pitched Lena face first into the arm she was gripping, however. As she fell forward, her weight drove the woman's elbow into the hard floor, paralyzing it from elbow to wrist. The woman lost her grip. Even as Lena crashed, the pistol went skittering across the floor once more. Both women scrambled to their feet and surged toward the gun again. Realizing the pistol had slid under her couch, Lena changed tactics abruptly. Trying to prevent the woman from reaching the pistol instead of beating her to it, Lena rammed her shoulder into her. The blow knocked both women off balance. As the woman staggered back a step, Lena fell against the woman and slid towards the floor. Coming down 49

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on her knees painfully, she grabbed at the woman, clawing along the woman's clothing but failing to grasp a hold. Shoving herself to her feet again as the woman lurched toward the couch, Lena sprang toward her. The impact, when she struck, carried both them over the back. They rolled, with first Lena on top and then the other woman. Beneath them, Lena heard the crunch of broken glass, felt sharp needles of pain. The woman screamed, bucking Lena off and then slamming her shoulder into Lena as they struggled to their feet again. Lena staggered back a couple of steps, caught her balance, and charged again. The second charge took both women through the shattered window of the living area. Shock and horror sucked the air out of Lena's lungs as the realization hit her that they'd gone through. The woman's buttocks hit the hip high iron railing of the faux balcony and both women teetered, clawing at each other as each tried to regain their balance. The woman screamed as her own weight tore her grip loose and the flipped over the railing. Lena found herself staring round eyed at the face of the woman dangling by one arm from her balcony and the insect sized city streets far below. Abruptly, a large hand seized her, yanking her back into the apartment like a rag doll and releasing her so that she slammed into the floor and skidded. "Help me! Please! For god's sake pull me in!" the woman cried in Lena's voice, sending a shiver down Lena's spine. A dark, hulking mass stepped through the window, stared down at the woman hanging from the railing dispassionately 50

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for a split second and then, to Lena's stunned disbelief, he planted the sole of his boot on her fingers and bore down. The sickening crunch of shattering bones sounded loud and horrible in Lena's ears, but not nearly as terrible as the woman's high pitched cry as she lost her grip. She screamed as she fell, the sound seemingly endless and filled with absolute terror as it faded into the distance. The man glanced at Lena where she lay on the floor as he touched a button on the shoulder of his uniform. "Done," he growled. "We're in, but this place is a fucking mess. You'll need a repair crew in here asap." "You killed her," Lena muttered in disbelief. "You murdered her." The man blinked in surprise. Striding toward her abruptly, he caught her throat, lifted her by her neck, and used his thick fingers to peel her eyelids back. "Fuck!" He shook her furiously and dropped her to the floor. "We've got a problem," he growled into his radio. "The clone just went off the balcony." Stepping across her, the home guardsman leaned down, caught the torn front of Lena's tunic and slugged her in the face with his fist. Pain exploded in her face and head and blackness descended abruptly.

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Chapter Four Lena roused with the jolt that seemed to travel throughout her body. The sense of falling ceased and she struggled to open her eyes. A gray stone wall was all that greeted her gaze when she finally managed to focus her eyes. She stared at it without recognition, uncomprehendingly. Slowly, it was borne in upon her that it was real. The nightmare wasn't a nightmare, but memories. The drug still flowed through her veins, however, and she found she could not rouse herself to full alertness. Her head swam as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling and for a moment, fear invaded her that she would keep moving until she hit the floor. Gripping the edges of the thin mattress she laid on, she closed her eyes until the room stopped spinning. She was in prison. As difficult as it was to sort reality from dreams, she knew abruptly that she'd lived the nightmare not just imagined it. Why the drugs, though? She was no threat to them now, if she ever had been. Per the new, harsher laws enacted during the food riots, there'd been no trial, no chance to tell her side of the story, to tell anyone that she hadn't killed someone. She'd done nothing but defend herself. The guardsman had committed the murder. He'd thought it was her. A cold shiver went through her. 52

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He knew he'd made a mistake and killed her replacement. So why was she still alive? Her mind seemed to wander for an endless time wrestling with that question. Finally, an answer seemed to present itself. They hadn't managed to pry the information they were looking for from Morris before they'd killed him and replaced him. They thought she knew something. She was still alive because of that, but she wouldn't be once they figured out she didn't have a clue of what was going on. **** No doubt the windowless cell in which Lena found herself would've made it impossible to gauge the passage of time even without the drugs that kept her off balance, but with them, she was most certainly lost, drifting in and out of consciousness. Time passed. The sudden, sharp intrusion of metal scraping against metal roused her. She pushed herself up on her elbows just as two trays skidded across the stone floor, shoved through a narrow opening at the base of the wall. A hand appeared briefly, leaving behind two tumblers filled with liquid. Lena's throat closed with thirst. She could almost smell the water. Even as she rolled off the bunk, however, the woman in the bed below hers hit the floor and scurried toward the trays. 53

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Lena narrowly missed landing on top of the woman. In the next moment, she was sorry she hadn't flattened the bitch for as she struggled to her feet the woman grabbed the food off of both trays and began stuffing it into her mouth as fast as she could. Uttering a feral scream, Lena dove toward the tumblers. Alerted, Lena's cellmate whirled to meet her. The struggle was brief. Lena was too incapacitated by the drugs in her system to put up much of a fight. She hit the floor, but rolled over almost at once, scrambling frantically to reach one of the tumblers, both of which were now rolling around on the floor. Her questing fingers snagged one, and for a moment a sense of hope filled her. She discovered when she got it to her mouth, though, that little more than a few drops remained. The cooling drops didn't do much more than dampen her mouth. With a growl, the woman slapped at the cup in Lena's hands, driving the edge into her tender lip and splitting it. Blood filled her mouth. Pain completely disoriented her for a handful of seconds. It was all the woman needed as an advantage. Grabbing Lena by the hair, she dragged her across the cell and slammed her into the wall several times. Apparently satisfied when she saw Lena was unable to do more than slap at her, she released her after a moment and scrambled toward the food strewn around the floor. Lena stared at the woman dully for a moment and finally pushed herself upright. 54

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Except for the puddle on the floor that her cellmate was sitting in, the water was gone. Lena studied the gleaming liquid for a moment, struggling with the urge to charge the woman again and collect what she could off the floor. Finally, she merely turned to the bunk and, after several failed attempts, managed to climb onto the mattress again. When she'd settled, she rolled onto her side and put her back to the woman before she thought better of it. Realizing, dimly, that the woman might attack her again, she switched sides so that she could watch her cellmate. Nausea and anger swept through her as she watched the woman gobble the food, stuffing it into her mouth until her cheeks bulged like a chipmunk. "I hope you choke on it, you bitch!" she muttered. The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the woman coughed. Her body undulated, as if she was trying to disgorge what she'd just swallowed. Half chewed food fell from her mouth and splattered the puddle of water. Convulsing, the woman tipped over on the floor and drew her knees up, curling into a tight ball. As Lena watched with a mixture of satisfaction and horror, foam formed around the woman's mouth, oozed between her lips and puddled beside her cheek on the floor. After jerking and twitching for several moments, she went still. It took many moments for it to sink into Lena that the woman wasn't moving because she was dead. The minute it did, bile rose in her throat. Briefly, she waged a battle with her stomach. She lost. 55

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When the spasms passed, she collapsed wearily on her bunk, but the tiny cell wreaked and the awful smell nearly made her throw up again. Grabbing her pillow, she covered her face, breathing through the fabric. Slowly, the urge to puke passed, but she wasn't certain whether she merely became accustomed to the smell, or if the air circulating through the cell had finally whisked most of the odor away. She suspected the former. After her stomach ceased to revolt, she began to wonder what, if anything, she was to do about the body on the floor. Would they think she'd done it? Guilt teased at her. No amount of trying to reason it away helped. Even though she knew very well she couldn't have wished the woman's death upon her, she couldn't dismiss the comment she'd made just before the woman choked any more than she could forget the sentiment that inspired it. Despite everything, the drug eventually took the upper hand again and she drowsed. A metal scraping much like she'd heard before woke her. "Fuck! You crazy bitch!" The accusation in the voice jolted through Lena and she pushed herself up on the bunk just as the door to the cell opened. "I din' touch'er," Lena gasped, her voice still slurred from the drug. "She choked." The guard's eyes were condemning. After a moment, he knelt, grasped one of the woman's feet and dragged the body out, slamming the door again. Lena had just begun to breathe a sigh of relief when the door opened once more. Two dark figures seemed almost to fly toward her in the dimness. 56

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Something stabbed into her hip and almost immediately dizziness and blackness swallowed her up. At first Lena thought the movement she sensed wasn't actual movement but the effects of the drug in her system. She finally realized, though, that blood pounded against her temples. She roused enough to lift her head. She was hanging face down across a wide back. When the blackness parted a little, she saw floor and, just a little to one side, a wall sprouted from the floor. She was in the hallway again. She realized almost instantly that they were taking her back to the interrogation room. Fear battled the drug, but the drug had too hard a grip on her to allow apprehension to take dominance. The man stopped and the sensation of falling washed over her. Instinctively, Lena began flailing her arms and legs in an attempt to catch herself. The guard, either under the impression that she was trying to fight him, or simply annoyed by her attempt to catch her balance, let go of her, leaning down to punch her a few times when she hit the floor in an ignominious heap. The blows barely registered except to disorient her further. She continued to flail around as she was dragged up, deposited in a chair, and strapped down. "Feel more like chatting with us today?" A day had passed? How many days had she been here, she wondered? Her mind wandered along that path for a time, trying to put together enough information to give her some idea of the time she'd been incarcerated. A sharp slap on one cheek that 57

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made her head fly sideways and her neck crack emphasized the question the man repeated. "Give us names." Names? Lena thought blankly. "Wha...?" A hand grabbed her jaw bruisingly and a face swam into her view. "Don't play stupid with me!" he growled, spattering her face with flecks of spittle. "Your father was right in the middle of the rebellion." "Fauder?" Lena repeated blankly. She could barely even remember her father. It had almost seemed to her that she and Nigel had been alone forever—scrounging for food, sleeping in trashcans—until Morris had found them and took them home. "Frank Morris," he growled, obviously frustrated. Grief descended upon her as suddenly and devastatingly as if it was a thing of substance rather than pure emotion. Her face crumpled. "Morris. Wa'you do t'him?" He slapped her again. It seemed to rattle her brains in her skull, but when her ears stopped ringing her mind felt a little clearer. "Keep that up, you idiot, and you're going to break her neck. Then we won't get anything out of her! She's drugged. All you have to do is keep asking her. Eventually, she'll tell us what we need to know." "This fucking drug you've concocted is useless," the heavy set man snarled. "Pain and fear work best, and she doesn't feel either when she's flying on this stuff. We've tried it your way, doc. Now we'll try it my way a while."

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Fear flickered through Lena. He was wrong. She could feel it. Her mind simply refused to focus for more than a moment at a time. Confusion filled her when he began removing the straps that he'd secured her with only moments before. It seemed it had only been moments. Maybe he had finished the session and was taking her back to the cell? She didn't believe that. He'd said 'pain and fear', she remembered suddenly. She began to struggle when he released her wrists and ankles, slapping at his hands ineffectually. Unfortunately, the fight was over before it had barely begun. He slapped her back, stunning her, more because she'd dared to try to fight, she suspected, than because she'd actually managed to cause him any pain. Grabbing her by one arm, he hauled her out of the seat and, when she could only manage a few wobbling steps, began to drag her. They left the cell and headed down the hallway she remembered and hope surged through her that he was taking her back to her own cell. Instead, she discovered when the tube lift jolted to a stop and they stepped off, that she was on another level of the prison entirely. She wasn't certain how she knew, but she realized after a moment that her ears were popping and she couldn't remember noticing that sensation before that told her they'd climbed very high, very rapidly. She began struggling against the guard's grip. "Where you tak' me?" she asked in a slurred voice. He laughed. The sound scared her like nothing else he'd done before. "I'm gonna introduce you to some ... real playful 59

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fellas. They're gonna be your playmates for a while. Until you decide you're ready to talk." Even as chaotic as her mind was, Lena sensed the threat on a primal level. She put on brakes, digging her heels into the slick floor. He continued to drag her as if he wasn't even aware of her attempts to struggle against him. Her heels made squawking noises as her feet skidded along the metal tiles, but she couldn't tell any difference other than that. Looking around for a possibility of escape, Lena discovered the real difference between this floor and the others she'd seen. There were only two enormous holding pens instead of individual cells. Dark shadows clustered in both—many dark shadows. "No!" He ignored that. "I'll talk," she babbled. He stopped and looked down at her for several moments. Finally, a grin split his face. "After this, if you're able. I'm overdue for some entertainment." Lena began clawing at his hand. When that failed to produce the desired results, she sank her teeth into his flesh. He slapped her, twice. Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she clenched her jaws tighter. Finally, he merely grabbed her nose, squeezing off her air. She struggled, twisting her head. Dark spots began swarming around her, the cloud growing until she could no longer stand it. She released her grip on him, sucking in a mouthful of air. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he hauled her upward until he could wrap one meaty arm around her middle. 60

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"Back away from the door!" he barked as he stopped at the cell door. No one moved for several moments, but when he released his hold on her hair and pulled an electrified rod from his belt loop, the men in the cell began backing slowly away until they were packed near the back of the room. "You're not seriously planning on going through with this?" The doctor demanded abruptly. "Pain and fear, doc. The best lessons include both, don't they bitch?" Stunned and disoriented for several moments, Lena began struggling again at that, beating her heels against the man's shins, trying to reach back to grab his hair or claw at his face. A buzzer sounded and the door slid open. Before Lena could do more than scream 'No!' she felt herself flying through the air as he pitched her inside. Pain seemed to shoot through her from every direction as she hit the floor and skidded. For several moments after she'd stopped, it almost seemed as if everyone was holding their breath. "What's the matter? You guys forgot what a female smells like?" Someone uttered a roar that sounded more animal than human. The hairs on the back of Lena's neck stood up even as she began scrambling toward the door. Someone kneed her. A body fell on top of her, crushing the breath from her lungs. It took Lena several moments to figure out that one huge man stood over her, pulverizing the other men that surged toward them. 61

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She didn't have much of a view of him from the floor, but she didn't need one to know she didn't want to wait around until he'd fought the others off of her. Wrenching free of the legs clamped on either side of her waist, she scrambled on all fours toward the door again. The guard stuck his foot through the bars as she reached it, planting the sole of his boot on top of her head and giving her a shove backwards. "You're in luck, sweetheart," the guard shouted over the racket of animalistic snarls and growls and the thud of fists, his voice threaded with avid amusement. "Black Stew don't wanna share you." "Are you out of your mind? You idiot! They're going to tear her apart," the doctor growled. "I'm sounding the alarm." With a growl of rage, the guard took a running step, caught the doctor by his lab coat and lifted him clear of the floor. "If you ain't got the stomach for it, go!" he snarled. "But just so's you know, if you open your mouth, or touch that fucking alarm, it'll be the last thing you do." "Let go of me, you animal," the doctor said in a strangled voice. The guard shrugged, allowed the doctor to slide to the floor, and then planted his fist in the middle of the man's face so hard the doctor's skull ricocheted off the bars behind him. Blood spurted from his nose and lips. His eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped slowly toward the floor. Someone grabbed Lena by her hair. She locked her arms around the bars and held on for all she was worth, squeezing her eyes closed against the pain shooting across her scalp. 62

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"I owe this bitch one," a new, vaguely familiar voice ground out behind her. "Let her go. She's mine!" A loud, meaty thud emphasized the demand. The hand that was tangled in her hair was wrenched free, yanking strands from her scalp. Something heavy fell across Lena's back—an arm or leg, she was certain, because if that huge brute had landed on top of her he would've crushed her like a bug. Ignoring the pain and the scuffle going on just above and behind her, Lena gripped the bars and struggled up again. "Let me out!" she babbled. "I'll talk. I swear...." The last word left her as an unintelligible grunt when someone grabbed her around the waist from behind and lifted her from the floor, forcing the air from her lungs in a loud woof. Instinctively, her fingers tightened on the bars, but she lost her grip after the second hard yank. Darkness closed in around Lena as the man holding her dragged her, kicking and screaming, toward the back of the huge room. The world spun. Flickering, indecipherable images flashed past her vision as he shifted her abruptly and tossed her away from him. The scream she'd drawn breath to utter came out as a grunt as she landed. She cringed, expecting an explosion of pain, but realized almost at the same moment that she'd landed on something relatively soft. A bunk. She dragged in another breath to scream, but held it as he sprawled on top of her. Gritting her teeth, she slapped and grabbed at his arms as he tore at her clothing. Chilling air 63

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licked across her bare skin, pebbling it. The man caught her wrists, forcing them to the mattress on either side of her head. "Be still, little fool!" he growled next to her ear. "I'm trying to save your neck." She didn't believe it, not for one moment, but there was something about his voice that tickled at her memory. Unclenching her eyes, she peered at the man as he levered himself above her. Even with the shadows cloaking him, the little light that penetrated so far gleamed off of the gold in his long hair. As her eyes focused, recognition slowly sank into her. It was the man she'd seen with Morris, the same one she'd glimpsed, or thought she'd glimpsed several times in the city since. She'd been right. He was a rebel. "Lena! It's me, Dax. We've got to make this look good, so scream!" he said low near her ear, his voice ragged, his breathing harsh. Lena's eyes widened to saucers as she felt something long and hard glide along her cleft. She needed no further encouragement to scream like a banshee, but there was more anger in it than fear. The bastard had lulled her, offered protection, and he had every intention of raping her! The loud smacking of an open palm on flesh jerked her eyes open again. Expecting to feel pain, Lena cut off midscream, staring at the man in confusion. He'd slapped his arm! He'd missed? 64

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He began shaking her. "Stop fighting it, bitch!" he growled in a loud voice. He'd missed the 'spot', too, Lena discovered, her confusion deepening when he began thrusting and heaving over her, his cock plowing a wide furrow along her cleft and sending keen shards of indescribable pleasure through her. What the hell? She'd been shoving frantically against him, but the fight had gone out of her. The moment she'd recognized him some totally different emotion flooded her. He was bloodied from the fight, grimy from the cell—he looked like hell. He looked twice as delicious with all that manly grit and sweat according to the heat meter in her body which erupted into an inferno. He settled his upper body weight against her, flattening her breasts. "Scream! I'm raping you!" She managed a guttural groan, partly because he was squeezing the breath from her chest and partly because the stroking along her nether lips was rapidly generating a lot of heat that wasn't friction. Her sex clenched. She tried to ignore the rising awareness of pleasurable sensation, but the drug worked against her as much as her own body. His mouth covered her ear. The heat and moisture sent a stab of full fledged desire through her. "Help me escape, and I'll take you with me," he murmured when he ceased driving her crazy with his mouth and tongue. She registered the harshly whispered words. Her brain refused to decipher them, however.

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"Sounds to me like you're enjoying it way too much!" a voice yelled abruptly. "I think I'll have to give you to Black Stew after all." It was the guard. Galvanized, Lena ceased groaning and began struggling to scream instead, arching and wiggling beneath the man who had called himself Dax as if she was fighting to thrust him off. Bucking was a mistake. She managed to curl her hips upward at the same moment he thrust. The head of his cock grazed the mouth of her sex, generating pain for both of them if his sharp hiss was any indication. Or maybe not. "Keep that up and I'll finish this the way I'd like to," he muttered. Lena was surprised at how tempting it was to pretend mindless incomprehension. She stopped abruptly, but she couldn't resist the urge to shift against him until his thrusts were rubbing against her clit maddeningly. Breakers of delicious sensation rolled through her, making it nearly impossible to focus on uttering 'frightened, pained' cries. The desire to feel him inside of her grew as he teased her clit. She could feel tension coiling inside of her until she could hardly draw breath to utter any sound at all. Abruptly, he began to shake. He ground his teeth together, began thrusting faster. Lena almost felt like crying when she felt his cock jerking and his seed spilling along her cleft. He was still gasping hoarsely, supporting himself on one arm, when he began searching the bedding beside Lena's 66

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head. Grasping something, he shoved it into the next of her tunic, tucking it beneath one breast. "It's in the food." She didn't get the chance to ask him what he was talking about. She hardly heard the comment that accompanied his stranger behavior, for a loud, metallic clicking noise filled the area almost before he'd finished coming. Twisting her head, Lena saw metal sheets rising from the floor like closing teeth. Still confused by the drugs in her system, fear coursed through her, not understanding. As the metal sheets locked into place, however, she realized the room had shrunk. The man dabbed at her face with one finger and then stroked the finger along her thighs. "For good measure." That comment was as cryptic as the previous one. "Fun's over," the guard growled, one hand curling around Dax's shoulder. With a snarl, Dax swung a backhanded blow at the guard. Lena screamed as a jolt went through Dax and entered her where his body still touched hers. Grinning down at Dax's convulsing form, the guard grabbed her arm, hauled her from the bunk, and dragged her from the room. It wasn't until the guard had shoved her into her own cell that Lena had the chance to try to put together what had just happened. Wilting to the floor, she stared at her bloodied thighs uncomprehendingly for several moments. Blood? He hadn't penetrated her. How could there be blood? She realized after a few minutes that he'd dabbed at the cuts on her face. He'd transferred the blood—for good measure. Still thoroughly rattled and bewildered, it was a while before Lena remembered the man calling himself Dax had 67

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shoved something inside her tunic. Shoving her hand into the neck of the blouse, she curled her fingers around the strange, small object and pulled it out to study it. "Bread?" she murmured, more baffled than enlightened. It's in the food. Realizing after a while that she'd begun to ache and throb all over, most particularly her face, Lena struggled to her feet, and looked around the cell. The tiny room contained nothing but a double bunk and a toilet. After staring down at the revolting bowl of the toilet for several moments, she gave up the search for cool water to sooth her throbbing face and moved to the bunk. Her cellmate was gone, dead and disposed of like garbage. The idea of lying on the woman's bunk made her feel ill, though, and finally she climbed up and settled on the top bunk. It's in the food. He'd given her a small chunk of bread. She dozed off still trying to make sense of everything that had happened. When she woke later, her head had ceased to swim and the pain she'd felt earlier had dulled. Once she'd shaken off the dregs of sleep, though, she realized she was hungry—and more clear headed than she could remember being in a very long time. After staring at the squashed piece of bread in her hand for several moments, she lifted it to her mouth and took a bite, remembering her cellmate had beaten her to the food the last time it was brought and eaten both her own portion and Lena's. 68

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And her cellmate was dead. She sat up abruptly as it dawned on her that that was why her cellmate was dead. She hadn't choked on the food. She'd overdosed on the drug injected into the food. Fear and anger surged through her at that thought. She was lucid, probably for the first time since she'd been thrown in prison and that meant she had nothing to shield her mind from the horror. She didn't particularly welcome full consciousness. As disturbing as she'd found it to feel as if she was swimming through some strange nightmare, it beat the hell out of knowing it was completely real! What the hell was she supposed to do now? They would come for her again. She had no confidence that she could fake being drugged out of her mind and beyond that, she was going to feel every blow keenly without something to dull her senses. Some fucking favor he'd done her! Tamping her fear and anger with an effort, she tried to think why he'd done it. He must have had a reason. Why had he acted like he knew her? He'd seemed to think she knew him, too. Why? He thought Morris had told her. That was why he'd expected her to recognize his name. Was that why he'd protected her? Faked the rape to convince the guard that she was getting what he'd thrown her in the cell for—a lesson of what she could expect if she failed to cooperate. Her thighs were still sticky with semen. Blood had been smeared through it and that, too, had dried. With revulsion, 69

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she studied her thighs, wishing she had some way to clean herself off. She wasn't touching the water in the bottom of the toilet bowl. It made her flesh creep just thinking of all the germs and bacteria swimming in it, as if they were, even now, climbing out and crawling across the room to reach her. She was going to lose her mind if she had to stay in this horrible, filthy place very long. That thought touched off a dim memory. She'd still been too drugged when it was happening to grasp much, but she finally remembered he'd said he would take her with him if she helped him to escape. Maybe her memory was faulty? Because that just didn't make sense to her. If she escaped, why would she need him to help her? Her face where the guard had hit her wasn't the only thing throbbing. Her head was pounding as if someone were hammering on it. Massaging her head with both hands, she struggled to piece together errant bits of memory into something that made sense to her. She'd been questioned, daily, or almost daily, since she'd been incarcerated. Unless her mind was completely unreliable she thought she remembered enough details to separate one session from another into a half a dozen. Which meant she'd only been in this hellhole for about a week? She was not going to survive much of this! Pushing that thought from her mind quickly, she tried to focus on what she'd been searching for before and 70

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remembered that each time the man interrogated her, he had become more furious and frustrated until he'd begun threatening ... something. She hadn't been certain at the time what he was threatening to do to her that he hadn't already tried until she'd seen where he was taking her. She hadn't been completely clear on what was about to happen even then. It had been more of an instinctual fear of being shoved into a cell full of men than a clear idea of the guard's intentions that had made her fight him. So, the guard had taken her to the cell with all the men, expecting to enjoy some entertainment while they beat and raped her half to death. The huge cauc monster with stringy black hair that the guard had referred to as Black Stew had charged her like a randy bull, beating off the other men, but Dax had seen a possibility that she might help him get out of his cell. That was it! He wasn't expecting her to escape and get to him and free him. He'd thought there was a chance the guard would bring her back for another 'lesson' and he'd hoped, if he could get her off the drugs, she'd have enough wit about her to create a distraction. She considered that for a while and finally decided that must be it, but he was out of his fucking mind! He was cute, and he was sexy, but he wasn't that damned cute and sexy! How was she supposed to create a diversion? And, supposing she thought of something, how was she supposed to keep from getting dead in the attempt? 71

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For that matter, supposing they managed to get out of the cell, this facility was a monster. They'd never get out of it alive. Maybe dead was better, but she wasn't ready to accept that. She was still mulling the memories over, carefully avoiding the particulars about what Dax had done and focusing on what he'd said, when a sound suddenly jolted through her abstraction. Pushing herself up on the bunk, she saw a tray being shoved through the narrow space at the bottom on the wall next to the door. Her throat closed instantly with thirst. She'd been trying to ignore the effects of dehydration on her mouth and throat for hours—days, it seemed. When the hatch closed again, she eased off the bunk and headed toward the tray. It's in the food! She stared at the bowl of disgusting brown muck and the bread for several moments and finally reached for the tumbler of water. After sniffing it suspiciously, she took a small sip. The tiny droplets of water on her tongue only increased her need to desperation, but she could detect nothing but water. After taking a couple of sips, she set the tumbler down with deliberation and waited to see if she felt any strange sensations creeping through her. Finally, deciding the water was safe if only because it would've been nearly impossible to lace it with anything that couldn't be detected, she allowed herself a few more sips. The water was tepid and she longed for something cold, but at least it was wet. As the worst of her thirst passed, the 72

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temptation grew to use a little of the water to sooth her face and bathe her thighs. She didn't know when she'd get anything else to drink, though. Finally, she carefully gathered the little bit of condensation that had formed on the outside of the vessel and patted her face gingerly. Blood had crusted beneath her cut lip and the little bit of moisture wasn't enough to remove it. She gave up after a few moments, knowing it was stupid to squander water her body desperately needed on the dubious comfort she would get from dabbing at the blood and dirt that smeared her bare skin. The filth of the place was torture enough for anyone with a fastidious nature. There'd been a time, in the dark past, when she and Nigel had lived on the streets, that she hadn't given a thought to the filth she lived in. She could barely remember that time, though, mostly because she had tried hard to purge it completely from her memory after they had gone to live with Morris. Dismissing it with an effort, she stared at the food on the tray, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in her belly—trying to dismiss the temptation to welcome the limited awareness the drugs in it would give her. She didn't really want to have her wits about her, did she? Did she really want to experience the full measure of just how horrible this place was? She killed the urge to appease her hunger and embrace oblivion. She had to get out, she realized. Serving life wasn't an option and the prospect of enduring this sort of hell for years was almost worse than the possibility of being killed 73

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outright.

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Chapter Five Lena was caught off guard and unprepared when they came for her again. The only thing that saved her from giving herself away at once was the fact that she was awakened abruptly from a deep sleep. Disoriented and uncoordinated from sleep, she was dragged from her bunk and hustled down the corridor to the tube lift before she was alert enough to realize luck had saved her so far, not her wit. The surge of fear driven adrenaline that pumped through her with enlightenment made it nearly impossible to maintain the pose of a drug induced stupor. She struggled with it, fighting to maintain her breathing, to make herself remain limp instead of trying to catch herself. She was certain, nevertheless, that her pose would be noticed any moment for the poor acting it was. Apparently the guard was distracted by his own thoughts, though, because he didn't seem to notice anything different about her. She slumped in the chair when he shoved her into it, focusing her mind on keeping her arms and legs limp as he strapped her in. That was harder than anything prior to that point, because she'd still been groggy and uncoordinated when he'd been dragging her along the corridor. Fear again aided her when he began the questioning, because her mind was so chaotic with it she could only stare at him blankly when he jerked her head back to look at her. 75

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"Give us names!" She grappled with the demand, trying to put it together with other things he'd asked. Somehow, he, or rather the people he worked for, were under the impression that she was deep in the rebellion. "Morris?" she finally managed hesitantly, partly because she knew he was beyond their reach now and partly because she didn't know of anyone else who even might be a rebel. She didn't think that Morris was, or had been. She'd never believed it was more than talk. He was willing and his mind still alert, but physically, rebellion was beyond him anymore. The interrogator's response was a slap that slung her head sideways and nearly made her blackout. "We know about Morris!" he growled. "Who are the others? Who met with him?" Dimly, through the blinding pain, an image of Dax emerged. She couldn't be any more certain about him than she was about Morris, though. Furthermore, they had him. From what she'd seen of his face, they'd invested a good bit of time interrogating him, too, so she couldn't imagine telling them his name would do her any good. Besides, she felt ill at the thought. "Don' know names," she managed to say finally. He grabbed her by her hair, jerking her head back and smashing the back of her skull into the chair back. "But you'd recognize them?"

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Lena swallowed with an effort, feeling her stomach heave as she tasted blood in her mouth. "Only know M-morris," she stammered. "Lying rebel bitch!" the man growled, pelting her with a barrage of blows that made the room dim and, thankfully, the lights go out. A deluge of icy water brought her around. For several moments, she spluttered and gasped, trying to free her air passages of water to suck in a breath of air. "Where do they meet?" Pain was pretty much all Lena was aware of anymore. The question hardly registered in her mind. He repeated it, emphasizing the question with another slap that nearly made her blackout again. "They?" "The rebels. Where do they meet?" He was going to beat her death, she realized dimly, if she didn't give him something, but it was a battle to jog anything useful from her mind. "Underground," she managed finally. He grabbed her tunic, shaking her and the chair. "We know it's the underground! Where do they meet?" "'Neath subway." He stopped shaking her abruptly. "Under the subway?" Lena wasn't sure of why or even how she'd come up with that, but an errant memory had surfaced of a system of access tunnels leading off the main vein. "Old town," she added. "When? When do they meet?" 77

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"Random," Lena muttered the first thing that came to mind. "You'll have to do better than that." Again, she babbled the first thing that came to mind. "Last Friday of the month." "Tonight?" His voice was threaded with excitement now. Fuck! But how was she supposed to have known that it was Friday? Realizing there was nothing she could do now to name a time that might have worked better for her, she nodded. "If you're lying to me, bitch, you'll regret it, I promise you." She already regretted it, but she'd been beyond bearing anymore. She'd felt like she had to tell him something to get some respite. Once he'd pitched her back into her cell and left her, she had hours to deeply regret that she'd been in no shape to think anything through. The underground she'd spoken of might well have worked in her favor if she hadn't inadvertently left herself such a small window of respite. As the worst of the pain subsided, she knew why it had popped into her head. People lived there—dangerous demented people. She and Nigel had been there when they were children, looking for a safe place to sleep out of the cold. They'd very quickly discovered that it was no safe harbor. The people who dwelt there were more animal than human, and extremely territorial. They were fortunate the denizens had been satisfied with just chasing them off. 78

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Even so, it made her feel ill that she'd probably just signed their death warrant. Whoever it was that wanted the rebels so badly would almost certainly send an army of home guardsmen down to cleanse the area. Trying not to think of the bloody battle she'd instigated, Lena focused on the forlorn hope that they would be so busy fighting they wouldn't discover they were fighting tunnel people, not rebels. Retribution wasn't nearly as long in coming as she'd hoped. An hour, perhaps two, dragged slowly past and her aches and pains had only begun to dull to a low roar when her cell door slammed open again. "You lying cunt! You made me look completely incompetent!" the guard yelled, grabbing her and dragging her off the bunk. She was too busy trying to get her feet under her as he jerked her around and dragged her along the corridor to think up a response that might mitigate his fury. "They weren't there?" she finally babbled as he hauled her into the tube lift. Venting his frustration in an animalistic growl, he punched her in the face. She almost lost consciousness. She might have except that the pain was too intense to allow her that respite. As the moments seemed to stretch out before her, she began to realize that he wasn't taking her to the interrogation room. He'd promised her she would regret it if she lied. Was he taking her to Dax, she wondered, feeling a faint twinge of hope? Dax had promised he'd get her out if she'd help him. Struggling to push the pain to the back of her mind, Lena tried to formulate a plan, some plan—anything. Panic 79

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threatened to overwhelm her when jogging her mind produced nothing helpful, but she barely remembered the trip to the cell before. She couldn't remember any details with any clarity. She was still completely unprepared when she reached the moment of truth and the door of the lift slid open. She was supposed to be drugged, and frightened. Stumbling around wasn't something she had to feign. She was dizzy and nauseated from the pain and she could barely see. Weakly, she flailed her arms—she discovered she didn't really have to fake that either. Abruptly, she realized that the only real strength she had was her dead weight. With a conscious effort, she went perfectly limp. The grip he had on her arm wasn't enough to keep her up. She sprawled in the floor, wrenching free of his hand. Still without any real clue of how she was supposed to divert the man, she lurched forward the moment she'd settled, trying to crawl away. Grabbing her by the back of her shirt, the guard thwarted her feeble attempt to escape, wrestled with her briefly and then hefted her from the floor and slung her over his shoulder. The blow of landing on that hard shoulder was enough to knock the wind out of her. She didn't have to fake that either. As she was struggling to catch her breath, however, she saw the rod strapped to his belt loop and, abruptly, everything fell into place. There was one minor, insurmountable problem. She didn't know how to work the thing and it seemed certain she wouldn't have more than a few seconds to figure it out. He would feel it when she jerked it free. 80

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She also didn't know how to work the door of the cell. One thing at a time, she told herself. She allowed her arm to dangle just above the handle of the thing. He reached back to grab it as they reached the cell. She hadn't thought about the fact that he'd used it before to make the men move back before he opened the door. Shit! Realizing it was now or never, Lena grabbed it first, yanking it from the holder. As she'd feared, he knew it immediately. He swung her around in a dizzying circle, trying to grasp it and finally dumped her onto the floor. Her elbow slammed into the hard metal, almost jarring the thing from her fingers. "The trigger's on the handle!" someone—she thought Dax—yelled from inside the cell. Even as she depressed the button, the guard grabbed the business end of the stick. He let out a jagged cry as electric volts shot through him. He began to flop around on the floor like a fish out of water. He'd firmly gripped the thing, and Lena found she couldn't pry it from his hand and was in imminent danger of losing her hold on it. "Ease off the button. He can't let go." She did, and then fought a round with her stomach, which was threatening to revolt in earnest at the smell wafting off the man. A hand reached through the bars, settling on her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "It's me, Dax." She stared at him blankly. 81

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"Open the door. I can show you the way out." She barely heard him. By now every man in both cells was yelling at the top of their lungs for release. Pushing herself up with an effort, she looked around, dazed, for any sign of a button that would release the gate. "The control is on his belt," Dax bellowed at her. Still too shocked to work independently of the voice guiding her, Lena looked down at the man and promptly threw up. His whole body was smoking and the smell of burned hair and burned skin was too much. When she finally managed to stop gagging, she found the control Dax had told her about and tugged at it. The belt, she discovered, was looped through it on the back. She had to unfasten his belt to slip it off. Dimly aware that Dax was still trying to bellow instructions at her, she ignored him because it took every ounce of focus to figure out how to remove the thing. When she'd finally gotten it loose, she turned around and looked for Dax. Dozens of arms were thrust through the bars, though, grabbing at the thing she held in her hand. She curled into a ball, holding the thing to her chest protectively. "The key code! Key in the code!" "I don't know the code," she yelled at him. "Give it to me!" She tried, but the men around him were also jostling to get their hands on the control and she wasn't about to give it to them. Dax meant safety. Dax meant help. She had no idea whether the other men would help her, stampede over her, or decide to drag her in and rape her as they'd tried before. 82

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She still had the taser, though, she realized. Gripping it firmly, she swung at the men trying to reach through the bars and grab her. When they leapt back, she shoved the control into Dax's hands. Like a wave, the men surged forward again. Again she swung at them. "Hurry!" Gritting his teeth, Dax pressed the buttons, trying one combination after another. Lena had just begun to think it was hopeless when the door abruptly opened. Dax wasn't the first one out. The moment the door opened, the men inside charged, bottlenecking the small opening. Black Stew waded through them, pitching several through and knocking others to either side of him. The stampede of men out of the cell galvanized Lena into moving faster than she would've thought she could. She leapt to one side, plastering herself against the bars. The din, already enough to rattle her eardrums, grew nearly deafening as the men penned in the cell across the way began yelling and cussing and demanding, or begging, to be released as well. Dax, exiting at last, tossed the control toward the waiting hands. The men instantly fell upon one another like a pack of dogs, snarling and struggling to get their hands on the control unit. The men who were already free had split up and were racing toward either end of the corridor. Dax halted next to her. "Are you alright?" "Compared to what?" Lena gasped, unable to keep the indignation from her voice. For just a moment, she thought she saw a glint of humor in his eyes. It vanished so quickly she wasn't certain, though. 83

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"We're not out of the woods yet. You think you can make it?" She didn't know if she could or not but she damn well meant to try. Either way, she wasn't about to voice any doubts. She thought it more likely his concern was that she would slow him down than empathy for her state. She nodded. "Good girl!" Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Lena glanced up and down the corridor worriedly. "Which way?" "Up," he responded without hesitation, heading toward the group piled around the lift tube. There were only a half a dozen or so men waiting now, Lena saw as Dax led her a little further along the corridor. The men in the cell on the opposite side of the corridor hadn't managed to get out. Either they'd broken the control fighting over it, or they hadn't figured out the release code yet. One group waiting near the lift had already piled on and disappeared. The men who'd charged off in the opposite direction had also vanished from sight. "Quiet!" Dax bellowed, his voice so commanding that all of the men within the sound of his voice instantly fell silent. Faintly, far in the distance, Lena heard a popping sound. "What's that?" she whispered. "Gunfire! Those idiots must have headed for the ground floor. Either they'll lock down the lifts or the car will be full of guards when it comes back and they'll be crawling all over us," he muttered, glancing around at the ceiling as if he could see through the panels above them. 84

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A wave of nausea went through Lena. She should've known it was stupid to think they could get out! After a moment, Dax turned away from the lift and trotted down the corridor a short piece, staring up at the ventilation shaft. Without a word, he climbed the bars and began yanking and tugging at the cover. Dust and debris began to rain down in the corridor. Finally, he managed to break the cover free on one end. He turned then and held out a hand for Lena. "In here." Ignoring the hand he offered, Lena handed him the taser she still held, scrambled up the bars, and leaned out to grip the edge of the shaft. He 'helped' her as she began hoisting herself into the shaft by planting one hand in the middle of her ass and giving her a shove. As scared as she was, that hand did more than give her a boost by lifting some of the weight off her arms. It sent a jolt of adrenaline through her that gave her the strength to pull herself up. She heard the scramble of feet as the prisoners waiting near the lift charged back to jockey for position to go next. The sizzle of the taser sent the smell of burning hair into the shaft behind her. A moment later, Dax appeared in the opening and clambered in behind her. "Move!" he commanded. "They'll be on us any minute." The prisoners? The guards? Both? "Which way?" "Up!" She didn't argue, but going up sounded as insane as going down to meet the guards waiting for them below. Without another word, she crawled down the shaft as fast as she could, pausing only when she reached the first intersection 85

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opening above her head. She stood up, then, wondering how the hell she was supposed to climb the thing. "Use the seams to get a finger grip and brace yourself across the opening," Dax said, almost as if he'd read her mind. The seams? Good god! Do or die, she reminded herself, digging her fingers into the seam just above her head and lifting one foot to brace it against the side of the vent shaft. She was sweating so profusely with effort by the time she reached the next intersection her hands and feet kept slipping. Shaking like a leaf, she parked her rump on the ledge of another intersecting shaft and struggled to catch her breath. "How far are we from the top?" she gasped out in a breathless whisper. Dax didn't even look up. "Three levels." "More?" Lena asked in dismay. "You want to go back?" Gritting her teeth, Lena wiped her hands on what was left of her tunic and felt around for another seam. Her heart leapt into her throat as her foot slipped along the slick inside of the shaft the moment she tried her weight against it. Dax caught her foot before she slammed it into his face, forcing her leg upward until she could plant it firmly against the shaft wall again. Fear rode her all the way up, as she slipped over and over, clawing at the seams that were little more than bumps until her fingers began to bleed, adding to her difficulties. When she'd made it to the next intersection, she tore a strip off the bottom of the tunic and wrapped it around her fingertips, 86

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tying it. The little spots of blood seeping through the thin fabric seemed to give her a little more traction. When she paused at the next intersection, she tore off two more and wrapped the strips around her toes. She wasn't going to make it, she thought glumly, even while she continued to go through the motions. She was going to make a misstep somewhere and slam into Dax and take them both down. It became a litany pounding in her skull as she struggled on and on, ignoring the shaking in her muscles at the fear and strain. She was ready to admit defeat by the time she'd finally reached another intersection. "I don't think I can do much more of this." In fact none. "We're there." Lena blinked, her head popping up automatically as she glanced toward the top of the shaft. She couldn't see anything but more shaft and then a blockage of some kind. "We are?" she asked doubtfully. "Wait here." Lena moved further back into the horizontal shaft as Dax climbed past her. She watched him until he reached the end. Bracing himself carefully, he began kicking at the piece blocking the top of the shaft. She'd just begun to think he couldn't get the leverage he needed to knock the thing loose when it fell to one side and a gust of air whipped past her, freezing the sweat on her skin. Before she could blink, Dax was over the side and out of her sight. "Dax?" she called in a quaky, frightened voice. 87

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He leaned over the opening, holding a hand down. "Come on, baby girl." Lena's chin wobbled. Abruptly, all she could think of was that she wanted Morris. He'd always made everything alright. She needed Morris and he was gone. He was never going to be there for her again. "Just a little further. Come on." Swallowing with an effort, Lena scrubbed a hand across her eyes to dry the tears that had puddled in them and moved shakily to enter the shaft again. Her heart seemed to stand still in her chest as she looked down. "Don't look down! Look at me!" Too late! She didn't think she could've made it this far if Dax hadn't been behind her all the way, blocking her view of the miles of shaft below her, giving her the reassurance that he was there to catch her. Never mind that she hadn't actually believed he would, that she'd been afraid the whole time that if she fell she was going to take both of them down. She needed the illusion of safety he'd given her. "Lena! Get your ass up here!" Dax bellowed abruptly. Stiffening her spine, still quaking like a leaf, Lena moved into the shaft and began struggling upward again. A jolt went through her when she felt a hand brush one shoulder. He caught her arm as she slipped, heaving upward. She managed to grip one side of the top edge. Her feet sought traction, slipped and she pedaled upward. Relief so potent it made her absolutely limp went through her when she tumbled to the roof in Dax's arms. 88

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She didn't really have a chance to enjoy the sense of security, though. He pushed her off almost at once and got to his feet. More slowly, wondering what they were going to do now, Lena gathered herself into a ball and looked around to see what he was doing. Without hesitation, he loped across the roof to what looked like a water tower, or perhaps some sort of electrical maintenance box. After feeling around the thing for a handful of moments, he pulled a small object from it. Glancing upward, he went still, as if waiting. Lena looked up too. She could see nothing but blackness, the slightly paler black of clouds against the night sky and winking stars. As she watched, however, one star seemed to detach itself from the others and shoot downward. "Make it quick!" Dax muttered, drawing her attention. It took more of an effort to push herself to her feet than she'd thought it would, Lena discovered as she gathered herself and tried to stand. She managed to get to her knees, wobbled for a moment and then, dragging in a deep breath, stood. Even with her legs braced apart, she almost fell down again when she looked up at the bright spec of light shooting toward them. Staggering, catching her balance with an effort, she glanced at Dax questioningly. "We've got company," he growled warningly. "Quit fucking around and get down here!" Lena felt her jaw go slack. Who was he talking to, she wondered blankly? The warning 'company' hit her right 89

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between the eyes just then, however, and she whirled to look around the roof for the threat as Dax charged across the roof toward a boxy looking protrusion. He'd barely reached it when a door opened in one side, disgorging guards. Four men carrying automatics charged past him without seeing him, heading straight for her. She didn't wait to see anything else. Letting out a shriek, she whirled and ran. "Get down!" Lena reacted instantly to Dax's bellowed command, slamming into the roof top and plastering herself against it even as the scream of laser blasts filled the air above her head. Cringing, without any place to run to even if she was near enough to reach any kind of shelter, she covered her head with her hands. Around her, she heard yells, the sizzle of the taser, laser blasts, and then above that, drowning out all of the other noises, the shrill whine of an engine. Heat seared her, blown away from her almost before it touched her by a hard blast of air. Pulling her hands from her head when the sounds of battle diminished, Lena turned her head first one way and then the other to see what was happening. Hovering just above the roof ledge was an enormous deep space craft. A dozen men had spilled from the gang way extending from it and were running across the roof. The four guards she'd seen, like her, were plastered face down on the roof, their arms above their heads. Dax knelt beside her and hauled her to her feet. "That's our ride." 90

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Stunned, Lena got up with an effort and allowed him to lead her across the roof toward the waiting craft. "Bring them," Dax yelled above the roar of the ship's engines. At once the soldiers prodded the guards to get on their feet, herding them toward the gangplank with the tips of their guns. "Hustle it!" Dax barked as everyone began pouring on board again, his hand tightening around Lena's arm as he pulled her to one side to allow them to pass. Still stunned and bewildered by the turn of events, Lena stood docilely beside him, trying to figure out how it was that a ship had been waiting for them. The troops filed in, disappearing down a narrow gang way and through an air lock. The whir of the gang plank being retracted caught Lena's attention, and she turned, watching as it disappeared into a crevice, like a tongue into a mouth, and the outer door closed. "The prisoners have been secured, Captain Morris," said a male voice. Lena's head snapped around so quickly a bone in her neck cracked. A shockwave washed over her as she stared at Dax in wide eyed disbelief. "Morris?" He turned to look down at her. His blue eyes were as cold as ice. "Good. Take this ... abomination down to Mel. When she's patched it up, secure it in the brig. We'll see what information we can get out of it." Abomination? It?

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One shock after another rolled over Lena, making it impossible to do anything but gape at Dax. She didn't even try to resist when someone seized her arm and led her away. **** An unaccustomed sense of doubt plagued Dax as he watched the guards escort Lena below. The problem was that reason and instinct were in conflict where she was concerned. Statistically speaking, they'd discovered that the gov had a 10 batting average when it came to replacing people with their cloned copies, which made it highly unlikely that Lena had escaped the fate planned for her. On a gut level, everything in him was telling him she was the Lena, the one and only. Tamping the vague sense of uneasiness plaguing him, he strode briskly along the gangway and climbed the tube to the bridge. "Captain on deck!" an enthusiastic recruit announced the moment he appeared through the opening, clicking his heels smartly and saluting. Discipline was necessary to form an army that was worth it's salt, but Dax wasn't particularly enthused about the rigid ceremony of the traditional army, partly because it made him uncomfortable since he wasn't regular army, and partly because it reminded him too much of the people he'd come to despise. Nevertheless, he returned the salute. "Captain! It's good to have you back in one piece—sir!" Rodriguez said as he spied Dax. 92

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"It's good to be back in one piece," Dax responded somewhat dryly. Rodriguez grinned, relaxing when he saw that Dax didn't mean to stand on ceremony, but shook his head. "We'd begun to worry you wouldn't be able to pull it off." Dax glanced at his pilot speculatively a moment before he turned his attention to the map the navigator had pulled up. "How much did you lose?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement. Rodriguez chuckled. "Naw, man! I won! I told them you'd have her out by the end of the week." Dax nodded, but his amusement vanished as he focused on the screen. "Plot an evasive course to this point." The navigator glanced at him sharply. "She's carrying?" "We have to assume she is. Either that was the most incompetent sons-of-bitches ever brought together in one place, or we've been set up." **** Lena was scarcely aware of the sights and sounds of moving along a narrow corridor and through one air lock after another, climbing down a tube, traversing yet another corridor. Throughout most of it, her mind was pure chaos. It wasn't until she'd been shoved down on a gurney and strapped to it that she even began to emerge from the shock and by then it was too late. A woman approached her, stabbed a needle into her arm and almost at once she began to drift away. 93

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Light was flicked into her eyes. Someone grabbed her eyelid, turned it inside out. "This isn't the clone," a woman's voice said sharply. 'Abomination' suddenly made sense, but Lena didn't have the chance to muddle through why it made sense or what difference it might make to her. Her sight dimmed and the sounds around her dulled and finally flickered out. "She's out," Mel muttered. "Let's get her cleaned up. She's such a mess, poor thing, I can't tell where she's hurt. Wait! The Captain said to scan her first for a locator." A tech moved a scanner into position and keyed in the command. Slowly, so slowly it was hard to detect the movement of the thing, the machine began its trek down her body. Mel moved to the screen, frowning. "Her vitals look a little shaky. I'm seeing borderline malnutrition and dehydration. Tom! Get a needle in her and start a drip. Let's see if we can't get her plumped up a bit." When she saw him swipe her arm and insert the needle, she returned her attention to the scan read out. "Somebody beat the hell out of her, and more than once from the looks of it. Looks like she's got fractures everywhere. We'd better take care of those first—assuming we don't find anything internal that takes priority—bath next and then we'll have a look at the cuts and see if any of them need sealing." They would've missed the locator if it had been left to the human eye to catch. The scanner paused, however, when it reached her chest, setting off an alarm as it pinpointed what looked like little more than a black speck near her spine. Drawing the scanner back, they released the restraints and 94

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rolled her over. Using a micro-viewer, Mel removed the tiny sensor carefully and used a laser to close the wound. Dropping the locator into a metal receptacle, she left her assistants to turn Lena over again and moved to the com. "We got one, Captain." "Make sure it's only one, and not just a decoy." "Sneaky bastards. We'll start another scan." The scanner had located five more by the time it reached her feet. Mel was already starting to feel fatigued and she hadn't even gotten to patching yet. Dropping the last locator in with the others, she glanced up and saw Dax on the other side of the viewing window. "I think that's got it. Tom, get the laser out and start on those fractures—not her face, though. I'll take care of that when I get back." Scooping the locators into one hand, she headed out of the surgery. "Six all together. They knew we'd come after her," Mel said grimly, opening her palm. Dax barely glanced at her. "I thought it was too easy." A faint smile curled her lips. "You thought that was easy?" she murmured, but then frowned. "She isn't the clone." That comment caught his full attention. He glanced at her sharply. "You're sure?" Mel sighed. "Almost a hundred percent. All the others had a code in the eyelid. Unless they decided it was too risky.... My money's on her being the real deal, though. She's got fractures from head to toe. They beat the hell out of her, repeatedly, and I just can't imagine they'd risk that much 'realism' if they wanted to make a plant. I don't know how she even managed to climb out of that fucking hell hole." 95

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A speculative frown drew Dax's brows together. "You don't think that points to the likelihood that she's a clone? You think she bested the one they sent for her, managed to live through their interrogation tactics, and climbed that shaft and she's human?" Mel shrugged. "People can do amazing things given the right incentive." Dax's lips tightened. "And yet all my father, or her brother, could talk about was how fragile she was," he pointed out. Mel turned to study the young woman through the viewing window. "Morris loved her. Her brother loves her. Men are inclined to think women are weak anyway. Maybe she's got a lot more strength than they give her credit for." "And maybe she's a fucking clone." Anger surged through Mel. "Suit yourself, but I don't buy it." Catching his hand, she slapped the locators into his palm. "You didn't say what you wanted me to do with these." He closed his hand around the tiny bits of electronics. "I need to check you out, too. Looks to me like your face stopped a few fists." "Later. Right now I'm going to get rid of the stench of prison." Irritation washed over Mel as she watched him go, but after a moment she dismissed it. Maybe he was right. She didn't think he was, but she supposed she was inclined to hope for the best. It was hard to accept that they—whoever they were—could simply replace people at will and nothing could be done to stop the bastards. 96

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"Is there a point to this?" Tom muttered without sparing more than a glance in Mel's direction as she returned. Anger washed over her. "Give me the damn laser!" she snapped. When he'd handed it to her, she glared at him. "Yes, there's a point. Until and unless we find out otherwise, this is a human being and she needs care." Tom stepped back. "She was riddled with the things. You think they planted them on her without her knowledge? Even if she's human, and not a clone, she's on the wrong side if you ask me." "I didn't ask you!" Mel snapped, uncertain of why she felt so protective of Lena but unwilling to examine it. "Look at the drug readouts and if you still haven't figured out how they managed to get the implants into her without her knowledge, go take a fucking refresher course on medicine, ok?" Tom glared back at her, but after a moment he merely moved out of her way, studying the read outs while Mel finished mending the multitude of tiny fractures she located. The bastards had been using her for a punching bag, Mel thought angrily. Whatever Dax thought about it, and she knew the clones were stronger and healed better than 'real' humans, she still didn't think they would've gone so far to convince them Lena was authentic. The clones cost money, big money, and regardless of how miraculous their research was, it would have to take a lot of time to generate that much tissue—right down to every little hair follicle. When she'd finished, every muscle in her body was aching, but she felt euphoric. Lena's face was going to look as good as new once the minor cuts healed. After running another 97

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scan to make certain she hadn't missed anything, she moved away from the gurney, watching critically as Tom and her other assistant, Risa, cleaned the young woman up. When they'd finished, she moved up once more and examined each cut carefully, using the laser to seal the worst of them. She wasn't nearly as happy once she was done, though, and she remembered Dax had ordered that Lena be taken and secured in the brig. They were holding four guardsmen in the cell already. She wouldn't have bet her next meal that they'd leave Lena in peace to heal. Shrugging, she stalked to the com unit and summoned a couple of troopers. "Take her to the captain's quarters." The two men exchanged a glance. "We were told we were supposed to take her to the brig," one finally responded. Mel waved that away. "I just talked to Captain Morris." Shrugging, the men moved to each end of the gurney and guided it out of the surgery. Mel had mixed feelings as she watched them leave. She dismissed her qualms. If Dax wanted to send her down to the brig, he could tell them. She wasn't about to, not when she'd just spent the last two hours patching her up. Dax hadn't returned. She wasn't surprised. She'd known even when she suggested he let her check him out that nothing short of a gun to his back was going to get him into her infirmary. Dismissing Tom and Risa, she removed her steriles as she moved to the com unit. "Captain Morris?" 98

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She leaned against the wall while she waited for a response. She was just wondering if he meant to ignore her when his voice broke the silence. "Yes?" "I'm done. You want a report now? Or can it wait?" "I'll be right down." Shrugging, Mel found a stool and plopped down on it, her thoughts veering off abruptly to Lena's brother. Nigel wasn't going to take it well if he found out they'd rescued Lena's clone instead of his sister, Lena.

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Chapter Six "What's the verdict?" Mel shrugged tiredly. "Which one?" "How is she?" Dax asked irritably. "Like I said, beat all to hell. I've mended everything, though. She isn't going to feel wonderful for a while, but there won't be any lasting damage—not physically, anyway. Otherwise, it's a little more tricky. That sort of experience isn't something people put behind them easily, especially when they've managed to make it to adulthood without seeing too much of the ugly." Dax frowned. "Lena's seen the ugly." Mel studied him for several moments but finally, instead of reminding him that he'd already made up his mind the real Lena, the one who'd had those experiences, was gone, she merely shrugged. "From what I heard, she wasn't much more than a baby. I doubt she remembers too much about that. I meant since your father took her in. Anyway, she'll get over it. The drugs—it's going to take a little while to get all that nasty out of her, but I'm going to keep her out for a while to give her plenty of time to heal up. She'll sleep most of the withdrawal off. She won't be really lucid for at least thirty six hours." He nodded thoughtfully. "Make it forty eight. We're headed for Antaria to lose the trackers. Once we've pulled that off—if it goes smoothly—I can focus on questioning her." 100

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A twinge of guilt flickered through Mel, but she dismissed the temptation to confess that she hadn't sent Lena to the brig. She was out and would be for a while. Even if it turned out that Dax was right about her, it wasn't like she was going to be in any condition to try anything. "Are you going to let me check you out?" Dax arched a brow at her. "You are always so anxious to get my clothes off, doc." Mel chuckled. "You got me. I just can't resist using that tight little ass of yours for a pin cushion." Dax's smile flat lined. "I think I'll pass." "Don't be such a baby! Jeez! Your face looks like somebody was using it for a punching bag and you're worried about a needle?" Uttering a long suffering sigh, Dax caught the front of his uniform and gave it a tug, unsealing the opening from neck to groin. When he'd shrugged out of the top, he peeled the one piece suit down his legs and dropped it to the floor. Giving him an irritated glance as he climbed up onto the examination table, Mel snatched the uniform from the floor and dropped it onto the stool she'd vacated. He was a gorgeous specimen of manhood, top to bottom, but he could be a real pain in the ass! It dawned of her abruptly why she'd felt so badly for Lena. It wasn't just that she could tell the poor girl had already been through hell. It was the fact that she'd managed to get on Dax's bad side and that was a really unpleasant place to be. 101

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The scan revealed bruising—a lot of it—and several cracked bones in his right hand. When she'd mended the damaged bone with the laser, she shoved the scanner out of the way and told him to get dressed. "No needles today?" he asked as he bent down to step into the uniform again. Mel checked his ass out. "It's oh so tempting, but I couldn't find an excuse. You must be made out of titanium." His lips curled wryly as he sealed the front of his suit again. "I felt every one of those damned bruises." "Want something for pain?" He shook his head. "All I need right now is a few hours sleep." Mel sent him a startled look, but he'd already stepped out of the med lab before she recovered enough from the jolt of that announcement to consider saying anything. After a moment's thought, she decided against trying to head him off. Retreating to her quarters, Mel grabbed her toiletries and headed for the shower. She'd just lifted her foot to step into the chem bath when she heard the captain's voice over the com unit. "Mel!" Jumping all over as if he'd sneaked up behind her, she whirled to stare at the com unit for a moment and finally leapt to answer it as he bellowed into the speaker again. "Sir?" "Where did I tell you to put the prisoner?"

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Mel grimaced, glad the ship was too bare bones to have a vid com unit. "I wasn't told to treat the prisoners, sir," she hedged. "Lena!" "Uh ... I thought we were rescuing her. Is she a prisoner?" "Are you anxious to check out the brig, doc? Because I can arrange it." "No, sir. I'll send someone down to remove the prisoner from your quarters right away, sir." There was a noticeable pause before he responded. "I'll handle it." Mel slumped weakly when he said nothing else. "You'd be wise to spend a little less time worrying about what Nigel might think and a little more worrying about me," Dax retorted finally. "I don't know if he will thank you for putting her in my bed, but I do." Mel's eyes widened at that subtle threat, but although she was tempted to ignore the order to leave well enough alone she didn't dare meddle any further in the captain's business. Dax leaned against the bulkhead beside the com unit for several moments and finally turned to study the woman sleeping in his bunk thoughtfully. He was dead tired, and he'd been looking forward to sleeping on something that wasn't crawling with bacteria from dozens of other occupants. He was in no mood to deal with this kind of problem at the moment. The last thing he needed was to climb into bed with a piece of ass he wanted but didn't dare touch.

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He found that the longer he stared at her, though, the more reluctant he was to summon the guards to remove her to a holding cell. His irritation finally waned. Crossing the cabin, he placed a knee on the bunk, scooped Lena up and deposited her against the edge of the bed nearest the bulkhead. As small as she was, and as wide as the bunk ordinarily seemed, it still looked too crowded for comfort—his comfort—but he shrugged the thought off after a moment, slipped beneath the cover and settled beside her, rolling away from her. It took less than five minutes to answer the question of whether or not he was too exhausted to have to worry about arousal being a problem. Just knowing she was in the bed behind him was enough to make him acutely aware of her, but he began to think he could smell her delicate scent weaving through the faint odor of decon-cleanser on his own skin and hers. He began to think he could feel her warmth radiating into his back, hear the soft sigh of her slow, even breaths. All of it together brought up a mental picture he'd been trying real damned hard to get out of his head. The mental image of that animalistic coupling between them in his cell shouldn't have been something to arouse him. It should have made him sick to his stomach, but the unavoidable truth was that he was a sick son-of-a-bitch because it made him hard as rock every time he remembered it. He had reacted instinctively to the threat to Lena when she'd been thrown into his cell to be raped to death. It hadn't 104

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been planned. It hadn't even been part of the plan, but his instincts were rarely wrong, and he hadn't had time to question it anyway. The guard had ordered up a rape for his entertainment and he provided it. Nothing else would have appeased the bastard. He knew that. But he also knew that, even without penetration, even though he'd done everything he could to try to make it as easy on Lena as he could, drugs or no drugs, desperate situation or not, he'd probably scared the living hell out of Lena and thoroughly traumatized her. The wonder of it was that she'd trusted him enough to help him out of the cell after that so that they could make the escape. Except it wasn't a wonder to him. The incident sure as hell wasn't something he was proud of or wanted to talk about, which was why he hadn't mentioned it to anyone and still had no intention of doing so. He was relieved he'd managed to give it enough realism by coming to convince the guard, but at the same time uneasy that he had managed it under those circumstances. The main thing that bothered him about it now, though, the thing that had been plaguing him from the moment she managed to help him get out of that cell, was that Mel was right about how tenderly brought up and protected Lena had been. Between his father and her brother, she'd been shielded most of her life from the ugly things people did to each other. 105

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Lena, the real Lena, he felt certain, would have been terrified of him after that. She wouldn't have trusted him enough to let him out of that cell. She sure as hell wouldn't have followed him blindly when he'd told her they were climbing up to the roof. The only reason he could think of any of the time that would account for it was that she wasn't Lena at all. He supposed he should have told Mel. She was a woman and a doctor. She would know better than anyone else he could think of what the likelihood was that Lena's reaction had been normal—or at least normal under the circumstances. To his way of thinking it was the most solid proof they had that they'd pulled Lena's clone out of that fucking prison. Maybe her brother would know—and maybe not. From what he'd been able to tell, Lena had spotted his father's counterfeit right off. He'd trailed her to warn her, uncertain of just how much Morris had told her about him and about the movement and how much danger she presented to the conspirators, because her own danger was directly proportionate to just how threatened they felt by her. She didn't have a poker face, that was for damned sure. Every time she'd glanced at Morris she'd given away every thought and emotion that was going through her. He deeply regretted the fact that he hadn't managed to pull her out before they got to her. But she'd managed to elude him at the station and he hadn't expected them to move on her so quickly, hadn't thought they would've had time to clone her. 106

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They were getting better at their acceleration techniques. There was no doubt about that. It wasn't taking them months anymore. Nigel had only pulled her DNA a matter of weeks before the switch. Of course Nigel hadn't known, then, that he was collecting for them. Right up until Nigel had turned his sister's code over to the bastards, he'd suspected Nigel was working for them, and well aware of it. There was no doubt in his mind that Nigel had been an unwilling participant. He'd flown into such a rage when he discovered he'd turned Lena's DNA over to them for replication that they'd had a hell of time holding him back long enough to convince him that he could do more to bring them down by playing stupid a while longer. He would've given a lot to know just what had transpired when Lena got back to her apartment the day he'd gone to pick her up, but the security tapes had already been fixed by the time he'd managed to break into the system. Frustration gripped him. They were going lose if they didn't get better at this, because they were trailing dangerously behind. Beginning to feel cramped from the tension in his body, and from lying on his side so long, Dax rolled onto his back to stare up at the overhead in the darkness. He wasn't certain whether the movement had aroused Lena from her deep sleep, or if she was merely seeking warmth, but she moved closer, throwing one arm and one leg over him. 107

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The curling thatch of hair on her mound tickled his hip and the arousal that had only just begun to abate from before rolled over him like chain ball lightning until his cock was so engorged it was trying to erect a tent. "Hell," he muttered, grinding his teeth as her knee nudged his testicles and they drew up in a hard knot against his belly in reaction. "Bad word," she muttered, the words only slightly slurred by sleep. Startled, Dax glanced at her sharply, wondering if she was feigning sleep after all. Mel had said she'd given her something to knock her out, though. Grasping her chin, he pushed her face up to study it suspiciously. It was dim in the room, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he saw nothing to indicate she was awake and only pretending to be asleep. He decided to test her to find out. He sure as hell wasn't going to be able to sleep in the same bed with her if there was even a chance she wasn't asleep. Lifting her palm from his chest, he moved her arm down and cupped her hand around his erection, watching her face. She didn't so much as flinch. She did, however, curl her fingers around it tightly enough he thought for several moments he was going to pass out. He'd expected, if she was awake, that she'd either try to slap the shit out of him, if it was Lena, or play coy and try to pretend she wasn't aware of fondling him if she was the decoy. 108

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Instead, she'd merely gripped it as if she thought she was supposed to hold on to it. "Bad idea," he muttered, trying gingerly to uncurl her fingers. They tightened instead of relaxing, sending a sensation through his belly that was not unlike being punched in the gut and he let out a grunt of sharply expelled breath. "Mine," she murmured. He didn't like to argue about it, especially when she had him in a stranglehold. After a few panicked moments, he decided to try to focus on taming the beast. It wasn't easy all things considered, but after a moment he felt the blood ease from his member. Unfortunately, the moment it began to go limp, she decided she'd dropped what ever it was she thought she'd had hold of. He knew this because she began to shake it. "Broke." "It will be if you don't stop," he ground out. "S'not broke?" "Just give it to me," he hissed. To his immense relief, she let go of him. Grasping her hand, he moved it to his chest again, holding her palm over his frantically pounding heart until she relaxed and went limp. He lay perfectly still for a while, struggling with his private demons, which had taken that really inappropriate time to prompt him with temptations he knew he had no business considering. 109

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She was putty in his hands at the moment, though, completely compliant—almost completely—and it took all he could do to shrug off the temptation to take advantage of her and assuage his needs knowing she would probably yield without argument. It might have been easier if he had not been thinking about their coupling in the cell only moments before. It certainly didn't help that, except for that, he hadn't touched a woman in nearly two months. When he finally managed to get his mind off of fucking her brains out, it dawned on him that he had stumbled on what might be the only opportunity, short of torturing her, of getting reliable information from her. He lay pondering that for a while, trying to think of questions he could ask that would give him answers. Somehow, he doubted she could handle any question that was too complicated at the moment. As far as any of them had been able to determine, the conspirators hadn't figured out how to record real memories and implant them in the clones. They usually managed to put together and implant a pretty impressive background package—which meant they had access to the entire security net which missed damned little—so even though they didn't actually remember the incidents because they hadn't been there, they did know about a lot of the same events the real person knew. "Do you remember meeting me?" he asked finally. She nodded. "Where did we meet?" Her face crumpled. "Morrisplace." 110

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Dax frowned thoughtfully, but realized after a moment that that still didn't tell him anything. He'd been in the apartment to scan for surveillance cams and 'spike' them. They'd learned very quickly that simply deactivating them didn't do much good. The very next time they went to a place they had to do another search and destroy. If they left them, though, planting a false feed, they could be pretty sure the goons wouldn't be back to check on them. The problem was, the cams might have caught his visit. He'd been as careful as he could about spiking them, and thought he'd made sure he had erased everything directly before the tampering, but he couldn't be a hundred percent certain that they didn't know that was the time and place he'd first encountered her. And even the real Lena wouldn't know that he'd known about her for years. The real Lena would know what hadn't happened, though. "You were happy to see me. It had been years, after all." Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "I was glad to see you, too. That's why I kissed you." She looked even more confused. "Didn't," she said finally. "You kissed me back." She moved restlessly, as if wrestling to extract that from her memory. "Did? Doan 'member." Dax frowned in irritation. That didn't tell him a damned thing, and unfortunately he couldn't tell if she was being deliberately evasive or if he'd just confused her because she did remember the incident but couldn't remember something that hadn't happened. "Fucked. Din kiss me." 111

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Dax stiffened. Catching her jaw and tipping her face up for his inspection, he studied it searchingly. "When?" he asked sharply. "While ago." "Where?" "Bed," she responded reasonably. He was tempted to shake her. She might be thinking about the time in the cell, and she might not be. It was just as possible that she was faking the whole damned 'asleep' thing and thought something had happened at Morris'. The line of questioning wasn't doing him any good otherwise either. Pushing her onto her back, he rolled up onto one elbow to stare down at her for several moments. She lay sprawled as she landed, bonelessly, showing no sign at all that he could see of tension. Finally, he settled his chest against her, pinning her to the bed with his body and tried to focus on relaxing enough himself to sleep. **** "Captain Morris?" The voice jerked Dax rudely from sleep, yanking his head upwards as if someone had grabbed him by the hair and lifted it. "We'll be docking at Antaria in about twenty minutes." Dax stared down in bemusement at the breast he'd been using for a pillow for several moments and finally rolled off the bunk and strode to the com. "I'll be up in a minute." Struggling to shake off the dregs of sleep, he looked around for the uniform he'd discarded and finally spied it 112

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hanging from the corner of the mirror mounted above his shaving basin. Recalling, vaguely, that he'd wadded it into a ball and tossed it at the wall when he'd discovered his bed was occupied, he retrieved the jumpsuit and pulled it on, studying Lena as he pressed the front seal together. She'd rolled over onto her belly when he got up, exposing a long shapely back and heart shaped buttocks that tempted him to explore the cleavage with his face. Shaking the thought, he grabbed the edge of the cover and tossed it over her before leaving the cabin. The smell of coffee led him to the galley. Grabbing a steaming mug full, he downed a mouthful before he was clear headed enough to think better of it, scalding the inside of his mouth, his esophagus, and his stomach. The burn more than the caffeine jolted him into alertness, and he headed out again. When he reached the bridge, he could see the busy space port in the forward viewing screen. They'd already been caught by the tractor beam and were gliding in for hookup. He settled a hand on the docking pilot's shoulder. "Stay put. We won't be here long. When you check in with the dock master, tell him we're headed to Andromeda to pick up a load of ore." Stepping to the com unit, he touched the pad. "Marx, Johnson, Gracia, and Vang—meet me at the main airlock— NOW!" Vang and Johnson were the last to arrive, and they looked like he felt, glassy eyed from too little sleep, their hair standing on end, and their uniforms fastened crookedly. He glared at them. After staring at him stupidly for several 113

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moments, both men looked down at themselves and began trying to tidy their appearance. "Each of you are to take one of these locators, find a ship ready to leave that has a deep space destination, and make sure you get the thing on board without getting caught—and move your ass. If we stay put too long, they'll be all over us." Saluting, they held out their hands for the locators, tucked them in their chest pockets and hustled out the airlock the moment the door opened. Dropping the last two in his own pocket, Dax followed them. Walking briskly along the docking arm until he reached the main dock, he scanned the vessels lined up on either side. He'd just decided to try his hand at a freighter near the center when he spied Johnson talking to one of the crew members. Changing course abruptly, he continued down the main concourse until he reached the furthest end and took a right along a secondary docking arm. He was in luck. He found a deep space rescue vessel that was loading supplies. Hailing one of the dock workers, he told the man he wanted to make sure the meds he'd sent over had reached the dock safely, gave him a fake name, and set him off to look. Wandering casually among the crates while he was waiting, he removed one of the locators and dropped it into the open crate the man had been trying to secure when he arrived. The dock worker looked worried when he came back. "I didn't find it. You sure it was supposed to be going out on the Mabel?"

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Feigning surprise, Dax stared at the man a moment and then cranked to get a look at the vessel. "Hell! Wrong ship! Sorry." The man glared at him irritably, but kept his thoughts to himself. Satisfied, Dax turned and strode purposefully away. The man would no doubt remember him if questioned, but that hardly mattered. Vids were everywhere. One could hardly take a leak without being examined thoroughly. He was just hoping the trackers wouldn't stop to question anyone at this point or examine the surveillance vids. When he reached the main concourse again, he considered what to do with the last of the locaters. Five ships would be leaving port with Lena on board—six if he planted the last one. Were they more likely to follow the six carrying her, figuring she must be on one of them? Or more likely to ignore the six, figuring they were all decoys? Deciding to see just how clever they were, and how many were trailing them, he returned to the ship with the last locator and headed for the bridge. "Set a course for Andromeda," he told the navigator as he settled into his chair. "Yes, sir!" His pilot, Rodriguez turned to look at him questioningly. Dax returned the look in silence for several moments. "After we pass the seventh buoy, change course and head for the dead system and settle the ship into orbit around the sixth planet. We'll wait there for a few hours and see if we've 115

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got company. If nobody shows, we can head back to main base." Rodriguez frowned. "They'll pick us up right away if we deviate from the flight path we charted." "They won't. Trust me. They won't know until we don't pass the eighth on schedule that we took a detour. That will give us a good three days lead on them. We'll be home before they notice we're missing." "The seventh buoy?" Dax nodded. "It's currently inoperable. I'm going to my cabin. Call me immediately if you pick up anything we need to worry about." Once he'd entered his cabin, Dax simply stood over the bed for several moments, wondering if it was even worth the effort of trying to get some sleep. It was only the reflection that he wasn't likely to fare any better, for other reasons, in the crew quarters. More than a little tempted to roust Mel out of her quarters and take her bed, he considered that option for a few moments and finally discarded it. No body, including him, wanted a med working on them that dead on her feet. What he needed was pain killer—some of the stuff doc had given Lena would do the trick. The only problem with that was that he couldn't afford to take anything that might make it hard to get his head straight if he only managed to get a few hours sleep. A whole lot of Lena would work even better, but that wasn't an option, be she ever so comfortably ensconced in his bed. 116

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Muttering a curse under his breath, he finally decided on option number three—a stiff drink. One wasn't likely to impair his judgment, but it would relax him. Settling in his desk chair, he poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey, chilled it in the freeze unit and sipped it slowly, allowing his mind to drift where it would as long as it didn't drift in Lena's direction. He'd spent a lot of years resenting Lena and her brother Nigel for 'usurping' his place with his father. It was unreasonable, of course, and he'd been old enough to know better, but that sort of thing rarely touched on logic. He couldn't recall that he'd ever really gotten along his father. About the only thing he remembered with a lot of clarity about his childhood was that his father was hardly ever around—too busy saving the world to spend much time with his family. And pretty much all of his memories from when he'd been a youth were about fighting, mostly his father. He'd been nearly thirteen when he'd decided to take off and find his mother. The old man had always sworn the feds had gotten her, but he'd never believed that. He figured she'd just gotten tired of him and his father and left. One day, she'd just left him a note that she had gone to look for food and never came back, and he'd figured, because that was what he really wanted to do, that she'd just kept going. By the time he'd turned twelve, he had outgrown his father in size and decided he'd outgrown needing somebody to tell him what to do, too. His father had been training him as a rebel pretty much as far back as he could remember. Mostly it was just talk at first, but it wasn't long before he began 117

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showing him how to make war, how to fight, how to kill quickly and quietly, always teaching him the art of warfare. His mother had hated that. He supposed, in the back of his mind, he'd thought that was probably the main reason she'd left, because her husband was a conspiracy fanatic and her son was a budding killer. As it turned out, he wasn't as ready to take off as he'd thought. The first time he decided to take his old man on, Morris had beat the hell out of him in about two seconds flat. The second time, he'd had time to add weight and muscle to his height and he'd put Morris down. And then he'd left. And it turned out that Morris was right. The gov had gotten his mother, rounded her up in the middle of a food riot, hauled her off to one of their camps, and kept her there until she died. He'd cried like a baby when he had finally tracked her down and only found a grave that didn't even have a name marker on it—just a fucking number. He hadn't gone back, though. He'd hated Morris then almost as much as he hated the gov, and for the same reason. He'd spent a lot of time trying to decide the best way to pay them both back for his mother and finally ended up focusing on the gov. They were the real villains, after all. It was because of them that his father hadn't been around to protect his mother. He'd been seventeen the first time he'd gone back, the first time he'd set eyes on little Lena. She'd been just about 118

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as big as a minute, spindly arms and legs and not much to her besides huge blue eyes. She'd hidden behind Nigel and stared up at him like he was the boogie man until his father had gathered his 'baby girl' up and cuddled her protectively. And she'd still peered at him over his father's shoulder, her eyes as round as saucers. He'd been torn, because he could see why his father wanted to protect her and her brother, because neither one of them had been much more than breath and britches, and at the same time he resented the fact that his father, who'd never treated him like a child in his life, had found the nurturing side of fatherhood with two children that weren't even his. Maybe Morris had needed them as badly as they needed him. By that time he no longer had the family he'd been fighting the great battle for. He was still in the game, thick in the middle of it, but he didn't participate in actual operations any more, and he didn't do undercover, and he didn't handle any of the leg work. He was too old, he claimed, to be any good anymore. He'd gotten slow and become a liability to his fellows in arms. He was a coordinator, nothing more. That job kept him in the know, but it also kept him on the sidelines so that he could devote himself to raising Lena and Nigel. Dax, his father had made it pretty damned clear, had also become a liability. He was already a wanted man, pretty high up on the gov's hit list, and Morris didn't want to take any chances that Dax might lead a hit squad to his door. 119

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It had rankled. He couldn't help but resent that his father favored Lena and Nigel above him, but he also couldn't help but see Morris' point. He was grown. He was used to taking care of himself. Lena and Nigel were still just kids and they needed somebody to look out for them. She'd grown into those eyes since the last time he'd seen her, but they were as wide and innocent and vulnerable now as they'd been when she was little more than a baby. The body that went with those baby blues was another matter all together. Setting his empty glass down on the desk, he got up, shrugged out of his uniform and sprawled face down on the bed bedside her before his body had a chance to catch up with the direction his mind had taken. His last thought before he dropped off was that he hoped to hell he'd managed to save Morris' baby girl, because if it turned out the woman he'd rescued was a forgery, he didn't think he could handle the termination.

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Chapter Seven Truly bizarre dreams haunted Lena's sleep. Some of them were distinctly unpleasant dreams about Morris, or a man that looked like Morris but wasn't. Some of the dreams were scary, because she kept trying to climb this thing that seemed to go on forever and she knew if she fell she would just keep right on falling. She dreamed even scarier dreams than that, though, where she was running from something in the dark, something she knew was evil, terrible, even though she didn't really know what it was, but she couldn't run because suddenly something was holding her down. Sometimes the things that scared her hardly even seemed like a dream at all, because there was nothingness and then a man would leap out at her from darkness, just burst into her mind like a jackin-the-box popping out of a box. Pleasant dreams mingled with the unpleasant, though. She would feel a man's weight, hear his harsh breath as he drove into her body, feel heat and need surging through her blood— and then everything would stop, leaving feeling horribly let down and disappointed. A woman kept appearing in the dreams, too, a complete stranger who always bullied her, dragging her up from her bed and sending her to relieve herself, or making her eat or drink and then stabbing her with something sharp and smiling at her and talking to her as if she was a child. "Good girl!" 121

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Lena wasn't certain what had wakened her, but she awoke with a clearness of mind that seemed almost as strange as the dreams that began to dissipate from her mind as soon as she opened her eyes. Oddly enough, even though she felt completely alert, nothing looked the least bit familiar to her as she stared up at the ceiling for several moments and finally rolled over to look around at the room she found herself in. Maybe she wasn't as awake as she thought she was? A faint sound caught her attention and she went still, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she discovered that she was looking straight at a naked man that was looking straight at her. She'd surprised him. He'd frozen in the act of drying the water off that was running in tiny rivulets down his chest and legs. He didn't look the least bit perturbed to discover she was watching him, just surprised to find her awake. She frowned faintly. "Where am I?" He studied her intently for a moment. Finally, frowning, he focused on drying himself. "You don't remember?" She might remember if he wasn't distracting her with that damned towel, she thought a little irritably. When she managed to drag her gaze from his thoroughly—she was certain—dried genitalia, it was to discover that he'd slanted a glance at her through half closed eyes, his brows drawn together over the bridge of his nose. She blinked as recognition hit her almost as forcefully as a physical blow. "I know you. I remember." 122

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The frown vanished. His dark brows rose upward, but something flickered in his eyes that looked more like concern than irritation or relief. "Somehow, the way you say it doesn't comfort me. What do you remember?" Lena sat up abruptly. "I met you at Morris'. You came there one time." He studied her, still with that puzzled, concerned look, slowly balling the towel he held into a tight ball and then tossing it carelessly across the room. "You don't remember anything after that?" Lena blinked at him, stunned by the question. "Of course I do!" She thought it over, wondering why he had asked such a strange question. Abruptly, she realized she had been so surprised by the sudden memory that she hadn't been very clear about what she remembered. "When I was a little girl." When he said nothing, she studied him carefully, wondering if she'd been wrong after all. "You've changed. Your hair was longer then, lighter than it is now. You seemed so tall." "You remember all that?" She nodded. "Just like that? I come out of the shower naked and suddenly your memory is jogged?" She frowned at the sarcasm, watching him as he crossed the cabin and opened a panel in one wall. Pulling a uniform from it, he stepped into the legs, tugged the suit up his hips. He left the upper half of the uniform dangling from his hips, but Lena found him slightly less unnerving half dressed than 123

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completely naked. When he turned again, he was adjusting his package. Lena looked down at her hands, discovering in the process that she was as naked as he had been a moment before. Grasping the sheet, she pulled it up self-consciously and tucked the edges beneath her arms, blushing when she caught his wry glance. Why was she naked? In his bed? And why did she not remember getting there? If they'd done what she thought they might have done, she was going to be really pissed off. Because she didn't remember a damned thing! Without a word, he stepped to the bunk, picked up a jumpsuit similar to the one he was wearing off the foot and dropped it in her lap. Lena stared at it a moment and finally shrugged mentally because there hardly seemed any point to worrying about her nakedness when it was obvious she'd been sleeping naked in his bed since she'd come onboard. Moving to the edge, she pushed a foot into first one and then the other of the legs of the jumpsuit, working the snugly clinging fabric upwards. "It was the way you looked at me," she said, struggling to sort through the flash of memories that began to flood into her mind. "Then? Or just now?" he murmured, his gaze moving over her as she stood up to tug the jumpsuit over her hips and then thrust her arms into the sleeves.

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When she glanced up at the question, she saw he'd moved to a small basin supported by a pedestal and filled one palm with a foaming substance from one of the taps. Fascinated, she watched as he covered the lower half of his face with the foam, wiped the excess from his hands, and reached for a hair removal appliance. Working with both hands to hold his skin taut, he began raking the remover slowly over his face. Thoroughly mesmerized by the process, Lena's mind just seemed to shut down. It wasn't until she caught his gaze on her from his reflection in the mirror that she realized she'd completely lost the thread of the conversation. She couldn't pick it up again either, couldn't remember what she'd been talking about before. Frowning, she looked down at the suit she'd pulled on and studied the closure that went all the way from the neck to her groin absently, trying to figure out how to work it. She didn't realize he'd moved toward her until he pushed her hands from the closure and pulled the edges together himself. An electric current seemed to sizzle through her at the light brush of his hands as he worked his way up the closure. Her belly spasmed. She looked up at his face, wondering if he'd noticed the effect he was having on her. "You're Morris' son, aren't you?" she said, suddenly remembering when they'd come onboard the ship the soldiers had called him Captain Morris and wondering why it hadn't occurred to her before when she could see now the strong resemblance between father and son. 125

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Instead of answering, he uttered a nonspecific grunt. A distressingly uncomfortable sensation washed over her. She'd been fantasizing about Dax since the first time she'd set eyes on him—or at least the first time she remembered seeing him. Before that—the very first time, when she'd been nothing but a kid, she'd thought he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She could still remember how awestruck she'd been. Had he been thinking of her all that time as a younger sister? "I guess ... that sort of means you're my brother?" His head came up abruptly. Gripping her upper arms, he yanked her up on her tiptoes and covered her surprised mouth with his own. Lena's heart slammed against her chest wall so hard she almost blacked out from the painful concussion. Heat scoured her as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and explored the exquisitely sensitive inner surfaces of her mouth and tongue with a thoroughness that made it impossible for her even to remember to try to breathe. His taste and scent mingled with her own like a potent liquor, flooding through her veins like liquid fire and draining away every ounce of strength and willpower until she was intoxicated, dizzy, lethargic and her entire body began to tremble with weakness and need. He released her almost as abruptly as he'd seized her and she wilted weakly to the bed. "Not even sort of." Too stunned even to gather her wits about her, Lena merely stared at him as he moved to the wall and punched it almost viciously. The door of another locker popped open. Pulling a pair of boots from it, he crossed the room, plopped 126

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down on the chair behind a desk and shoved his feet into them. When he stood up again, he caught the upper half of his uniform and dragged it upward, shoving his arms into the sleeves. "Just a suggestion," he murmured when he paused at the door. "Find another place to sleep. The next time I find you in my bed, naked or otherwise, I may do something we'll both regret." A shudder went through her when the door closed behind him, breaking the spell at last—sort of. She still felt rather as if she'd been blindsided. Lifting a hand, she touched her swollen lips gingerly with the tips of her fingers, tasting him as she licked the dry surface. It was enough to send another wave of need through her. Swallowing convulsively, she dropped her hand to her lap again. Was he laboring under some strange misconception that she wouldn't welcome anything he wanted to do to her, she wondered? That thought brought her crashing back to reality. What was she thinking? She didn't know anything about him—except that the man was dangerous. Images flashed in her mind of the fight in the cell when the guard had thrown her in with him and the other men. The one the guard had called Black Stew was a mountain of a man, taller and broader even than Dax, and Dax was a monster—every bit of six foot three or four and as solidly muscular as a tank—and Dax had beat the man into the floor as if he'd been no more than a ninety pound weakling after Black Stew had mopped the floor with the others. 127

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Men didn't just naturally know how to fight like that. It took practice. If that wasn't evidence enough, Dax's body was a road map of violence. There were scars on his legs and arms, his back, his chest, even several small scars on his face; a long thin one on one cheek and two tiny, barely noticeable one on his upper lip and chin. Unbidden, the memory of Dax heaving and thrusting over her washed through her mind. Another shudder went through her, but she didn't even try to lie to herself. Maybe, if she hadn't been too drugged up to hardly know where she was, that incident would have scared her out of her wits, disgusted her. She wasn't certain of it, though, because the moment she had finally realized it was Dax the entire complexion of the situation had changed, radically. Some part of her had relished it. Some part of her had felt nothing but frustration that the circumstances prevented him from doing more than he had. Her belly clenched almost painfully at the memory of his flesh gliding along her cleft, her body instantly recalling the pleasure that had heated her core. Covering her face with her hands as if she could block out the memory, she got up abruptly. Morris hadn't wanted her anywhere around his son—hadn't wanted Dax near her. She remembered that from that time, so long ago she didn't know why or how she still remembered it—except maybe because she had been terribly confused, disappointed, and scared. Dax couldn't have been much more than a kid himself then, but to her eyes he was a man, and she'd never seen anything quite like him. He'd seemed almost 128

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god-like to her, a warrior god, a wondrously beautiful creature that was almost as scary as he was fascinating. But then he and Morris had had a terrible fight. She couldn't remember anything specific about the argument, only that Morris had told Dax he wasn't welcome, that he wasn't to come anymore and Dax—Dax had been hurt, and furious because he was hurt. She remembered that, remembered seeing it in his eyes and wanting to cry for him. He'd changed, and it wasn't just that he was older, brawnier. There was no longer any sign at all of that vulnerability that had been in his eyes then. He was a rebel. There was no longer any doubt about that, and he'd brought her into the middle of the conflict. She didn't want to be here. She wasn't a rebel. She didn't want to be one. She wanted the life back that she'd had before, but there was no way in hell she was ever going to get it back now. Maybe there never had been. Most likely there never had been, because she'd seen something she should never have seen, the proof that the rumors weren't just rumors. That didn't mean she was ready to throw in her lot with the rebels, though. She didn't want any part of fighting a war that there was no hope of winning. Dax had made it pretty clear he was going to consider her lingering in his cabin as an open invitation. She took that to mean that she was free to leave, and she still felt really uneasy when she left the cabin. After standing just outside in the corridor for several minutes, looking around, she followed the corridor. The first door to her right opened into a large 129

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room with bunks stacked two tiers high and with little more than two feet between them on either side or at the foot where the narrow space formed a walkway. There were maybe a half a dozen men sprawled on the bunks. Several of them glanced her way and looked her over with interest. Embarrassed to be caught gawking at them, she moved on. On the left side of the corridor there seemed to be smaller versions of the captain's cabin. Most of the doors were closed and she didn't want to open them, but she caught a glimpse of one through a partially open door. When she reached the end, she found a ladder leading up through a tube to another level. After hesitating for several moments, she climbed up it until she reached the next level. The smell of food wafted to her and her stomach growled painfully. Deciding to see if she could find something to eat, she stepped off the ladder and into the corridor, following the aroma. This level seemed to be a collection of storage rooms, a gym, what looked like it must be a recreation room, and a large dining hall, or mess, and kitchen. There were people grouped around some of the tables. Apparently, the crew worked and slept in shifts. Lena stepped into the doorway uncertainly. A woman that looked vaguely familiar looked up, spied her and immediately got to her feet. "I'm Mel—or Doc," she said, smiling as she extended her hand. Lena felt herself relaxing fractionally. "I'm Lena." Mel's smile widened. "I know. Nigel's sister." 130

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Lena sent her a startled look. "You know Nigel?" "Come on. You look like you could use something to eat," she said, tugging at the hand she held to urge Lena inside before she released it. "Not really," she answered the question once she'd pointed out to Lena where to get a tray and utensils. "I've met him though." Lena swallowed a little thickly. "My brother was supposed to meet me at my apartment the night the home guard picked me up. I don't know what happened to him." Mel sent her a look of sympathy. "He's all right." Relief flooded Lena. "You're sure? They didn't get him, too? You wouldn't ... just say that, would you?" Mel grimaced. "I might. But it just happens to be true." She thought it over. "At least, he was alright the last I knew. You'll see him soon. I promise." Still not completely convinced, Lena nevertheless relaxed enough to return her attention to the food spread along the buffet. She was starving. By the time she'd gotten to the end she discovered she'd put a little of everything on her tray. It looked like enough food to feed a small army. She stared at it with a mixture of embarrassment and dismay. Mel chuckled. "You do have an appetite!" "I think I got more than I need," Lena responded with a grimace. "I didn't realize I'd put so much on the tray." "Don't worry about it. Come on. Sit with us and I'll introduce you around." They were a rough looking bunch. If Lena had seen them anywhere else she would have turned around and walked the 131

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other way, or crossed the street. She discovered they were all very pleasant and polite, however. It was still one of the most uncomfortable meals she'd ever sat through, mostly because her arrival seemed to have deprived everyone of any ideas for conversation even though they didn't seem to be having a problem before her arrival. She had always been pretty reserved around people she didn't know well and couldn't come up with any ideas that might get a conversation of some kind going. All in all, she was glad when she'd eaten all she could swallow, which wasn't nearly as much as she'd taken out on the plate, or even nearly as much as she might have been able to eat if she hadn't felt that she'd created a strain in the atmosphere. "Done already?" Mel asked, her voice tinged with disapproval. "I can put it up for later," Lena said uncomfortably. Food wasn't wasted. She doubted even the wealthy wasted food, because it was still pretty damned hard to come by, and it occurred to her that she'd either given them the impression that she was criminally wasteful, or, almost as bad, greedy, grabbing more than she could eat to make sure she got her share even if it deprived others of getting theirs. "I'll show you where to store it," Mel volunteered. "You're just not used to eating what you used to after being out so long, and then the time in the jail. I'm sure you didn't get fed much in there."

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Lena smiled at Mel gratefully. "I guess that's it. I was just so hungry I didn't realize I'd gotten so much. This will probably hold me for three or four meals." She couldn't tell that the soldiers' opinions toward her had improved that much, but at least none of them glared at her when she got up and followed Mel into the kitch/galley to wrap the food and store it. "You'll be better off eating small amounts at first anyway. Feel like walking down to the med lab with me so I can check you out?" She didn't, but she could see Mel wasn't actually asking. She was just trying to be polite about it. She nodded, following Mel from the mess hall and up another level. "They think I'm a clone, don't they?" Lena asked as she stripped and climbed onto the examination table. Mel frowned over the chart she was studying on her screen. "What makes you think that?" "I don't remember things very clearly about what happened when we got on the ship, but I know Dax thinks I'm a clone," she said, staring at the ceiling. "I'm not," she added as Mel moved to the head of the examination table and set up the scanner. "I'm convinced," Mel retorted a little absently. Lena studied the woman's face. "You aren't." Without responding, Mel moved to the computer again and set the scan cycle. "Actually, I am more inclined to think you're Lena. I didn't see anything to convince me you weren't. But I did see a lot to convince me you were." She was silent for several moments, studying the read out as the 133

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scan began. "You have to understand that, around here, people are pretty jumpy about it. We've seen it—enough times to find it really scary—and mostly we'd rather err on the side of caution." A sense of hopelessness invaded Lena and a touch of anger along with it. How was she supposed to prove she was the real Lena? She knew she was. She remembered things from her childhood and the clones didn't have a childhood, couldn't. The thought reminded her of her conversation with Dax. Why hadn't he accepted, when she'd told him about her memory, that she was who she claimed to be? It was because Dax didn't believe, she realized, that everyone else doubted her. They respected him. She knew that from just the little she'd seen him with his crew. "I remember my childhood," she said tentatively. "A clone wouldn't have had one." Mel sent her a sympathetic look. "They didn't, but they don't know that." Lena sent her a startled glance. "How can they not know? They can't—give these creatures memories. They certainly wouldn't be able to give them the memories of the person they were cloning." Mel looked uncomfortable. "The human mind is so programmable it's downright scary," she said finally. "It's done all day, every day, without people even being aware of it." Lena smiled with a mixture of disbelief and sadness. "That sounds like something Morris would've said." 134

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"But you didn't believe it?" Lena shrugged. "I guess I could see he was right in a way. I just never believed it was ... like a conspiracy against people." "Most of that isn't a secret conspiracy. It never was. It's right out in the open. People just don't see it. It's the determination of different factions to control people, not a covert operation designed to take over the world. In old days, before half the population of the planet died and most of the food supplies were destroyed, everybody with money and power was fighting over the little people. All day long they were subjected to vids, sound waves, signs—buy this, buy that, you need this. Even the pharmaceutical and medical professions were in on the free-for-all to gobble up the biggest share of the money. Headache? Take this, or this, or this. Stomach ache? Sleepless? Need to stay awake? And on and on until probably three quarters of the population were obsessing about their health, or stoned out of their minds because they were told hundreds of times a day that it was all right to take any drug for any problem, because the drugs were going to cure it. And the medical profession invented a catchy phrase—preventive medicine—to get their share of the money. Convincing people that they had to dash to the hospital or doctor's office all the time, whether there was anything wrong with them or not." Lena stared at her frowningly. "That isn't programming. It's marketing. It's good for the economy." "Some of it is. Some of it isn't. Any time people are convinced to buy something they don't need, don't really 135

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want, can't use, shouldn't have, or just to spend money they can't afford to spend, it isn't good for them and it isn't good for the economy. The government just didn't try to control it like they did everything else because as long as people were spending like maniacs the economy was 'healthy'." "So you're saying influence is programming?" "Isn't it?" Lena frowned. She didn't agree with the doctor, but she decided not to argue about it. "I still don't see what this has to do with clones." "Nothing and everything. The same principles I was just talking about can be applied to programming people, and have been for centuries. The technique was first developed during the twentieth century—one of the world wars. Basically, if you're told something enough times you believe it." "So—you're saying they tell the clones about their childhood?" "As far as we've been able to discover, yes." Lena frowned. "They couldn't know everything." "They don't have to. Every day, every where you go, throughout your entire life, you're being watched and recorded. All they have to do is track down the records, and they have the basics to program with. You graduated here, at this time, these people were with you, etc. They feed all of the information they've gathered on a specific subject to the clone while the brain is developing, project images they collect into the mind. By the time the thing comes out of the cooker, it thinks it actually experienced all of those things. 136

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They're memories. And, yes, it's got glitches, but nobody's memory is perfect either so most of the time people just think 'faulty memory'." It was scary how believable that sounded, how possible. There were things that had happened when she was a child, incidents, that she'd heard about over and over until even she wasn't sure whether she remembered the incident, or just remembered being told about it. She knew she was Lena, not a clone. She wasn't so certain anymore, though, if things had happened differently that she would have known. "Morris was different. I mean, his personality was all wrong. I knew the moment I saw him it wasn't really Morris." "That's because they didn't know enough about Morris. He'd spent most of his life underground, off the grid. And the things that happen to people change them. It affects their personality, so if they don't experience them, they turn out differently. I don't think they really intended to clone Morris. He wouldn't go near a clinic, and I can't figure out how they could've gotten his DNA to develop the clone. I think they took him in to question him and.... "She broke off when she saw the look on Lena's face. "Sorry." Lena shook her head, fighting back the urge to burst into tears. "I think it would've been easier to take if I hadn't had to look at that thing that looked like him, and sounded like him, but wasn't. And the worst of it was that I wasn't there when he needed me. I didn't get to tell him bye. One day, he was just gone." 137

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Mel said nothing, focusing on fiddling with the scanner, which had completed its cycle, to give Lena time to get her emotions under control. "I know," she finally said quietly. "It's like that for all of us. That's why most of us are here, because someone we loved was replaced." Lena lifted her head, staring at Mel as that slowly sank into her mind. "Why would they do that? What could they possibly have to gain replacing people that were just ... ordinary people? Politicians, I could understand. Maybe even executives of powerful corporations, but just plain ordinary citizens who have no power?" "Truthfully? I don't know. But I'm guessing, control. They need the ordinary people. The whole country rests on the shoulders of the ordinary people. They provide the labor that makes the money, and they spend money to support the economy. You weren't around during the food riots or the riots that came before that. I wasn't either, for that matter. But when the gov lost control of the people, they lost the whole country. Everything went down the tubes. "I think they are replacing politicians—and anybody else in key positions of power, but they're also replacing anybody that presents any kind of threat at all. Even if the only influence they have is on the people around them. All they have to do is make a little wave, and whoever is behind this makes them disappear. "But they can't just eliminate them. People would be in an uproar over that, and besides, there's the labor problem. They need laborers." 138

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Lena stared at the woman, realizing it made a terrible kind of sense and hating the fact that it did. "It was because I noticed Morris and they were afraid I'd start digging?" "Probably." "But—who's doing it?" "If we knew that, we'd know how to stop it." Lena frowned. "Morris always thought it was the gov. I can't see it. In the long term, it wouldn't make a lot of difference to the president. He won't be in office much longer anyway." She thought that over for several moments. "You think he's planning on making himself a ... dictator?" "It's possible. It's also possible he doesn't even know about it." Realizing the examination was over, Lena sat up, massaging her temples absently. When Mel started to move away, she caught her arm. "I know who I am. I know I'm not a clone." She could tell from the way Mel was looking at her that Mel didn't believe she would know. "The thing is," Mel said finally. "The clones are usually stronger and heal faster than their counterpart and the thing that's bothering everybody is that you managed to overpower yours. Statistically, the odds are against the real Lena having survived. We all know that. Dax knows that. That's why he doesn't believe you are really you even though I think he wants to." Lena stared at her in frustration. "I didn't overpower her. It wasn't me that killed her. It was the home guard." Mel's brows rose. "What did happen?" 139

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Feeling more hopeful when Mel seemed open to at least listening to her side of the situation, she very carefully related every detail about that night that she could remember. She was disappointed by Mel's reaction. She looked thoughtful, but not completely convinced. It took an effort to contain her anger and frustration. She could see Mel suspected that she'd made up the entire story to cover her butt, and she supposed she couldn't really blame her for not taking the word of a complete stranger, but how was she supposed to clear up the misconception if no one would even listen to her? "Dax didn't believe me either," she said dully. "He's afraid to. We all are." "Why did he even bother to help me escape?" she said irritably. "To stop Nigel from going in after you." Lena glanced at her sharply, horror flooding her at the idea of Nigel trying anything that crazy. It warmed her that her big brother wanted to take care of her, but he was a tech, for god's sake. He wasn't a soldier. How could he even have considered doing something like that? It wasn't just hard to imagine. It was impossible. "Oh god!" She covered her mouth with her hand. Still shaken by the idea of Nigel risking his life to do the things that Dax had done, Lena climbed off of the table, discarded the towel sized 'sheet' she'd covered herself with and picked up the uniform, slipping her feet into it. She'd already pushed her arms into the sleeves before it dawned on 140

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her that Dax had no more reason to care about Nigel than he did her. When she'd first realized that Dax was Morris' son, she supposed, in the back of her mind, at least, she'd thought the reason he'd rescued her was because of his affection for his father, because he'd realized Morris would have tried if he'd been able to. If that wasn't the case, though, then it couldn't be the reason he'd decided to help Nigel either. "Why? And why Dax?" Mel sent her a questioning look. "He doesn't care anything about Nigel or me. Why would he risk his life to help either one of us? And why do it himself? Why not just send someone?" Mel glanced away uncomfortably. "Because there's a chance Nigel can help us track the data," she said finally. "He wouldn't agree to try it unless we got you out." Lena was too stunned at first to feel anything at all, but fury washed over her when she realized that they'd used her to get her brother to risk his life for their damned cause. Nigel was no rebel. He was an academic. They were going to get him killed! As much as she wanted to tell Mel there was no way in hell she was going to just stand by and let Nigel do what they wanted without making a hell of a push to talk him out of it, she realized now was not the time to address that—and Mel wasn't the one she needed to talk to about it anyway. Mel wasn't charge. Maybe Dax wasn't either, but he made a better target. "Why Dax? Why not send someone else in after me?" 141

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"Because he never sends someone else to do a job he wouldn't do himself. Maybe because he felt like he owed it to Morris. I don't know. I'm not sure he knows, either, but I do know no one was expecting to see you on that roof and it's the first time since I've known the captain that he failed to do what he went in to do." Lena frowned at her questioningly. "He went in to terminate you. It's what we do. It's all we can do, because we don't know who's behind this or how else to try to stop it. We terminate the clones we locate."

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Chapter Eight A coldness washed over Lena even before her mind fully grasped what Mel had just told her. It took many moments more for Lena to really assimilate the information. She was living a nightmare! How could it be that she'd spent her entire life doing everything she was supposed to, never doing anything she wasn't supposed to, and then wake up one day to find out that everybody wanted to kill her? "I guess that explains why nobody wanted to get to know me," she murmured through lips that felt strangely stiff. Mel's face creased in distress. "I shouldn't have told you. I could go to the brig for it, but I believe you, and you need to know your life's on the line here. This is a deadly serious game we're playing, and we play for keeps. If you can think of a way to prove your identity beyond the shadow of a doubt, you need to do it before it's too late. "Captain Morris must have seen something that gave him pause, because if he'd been certain you were the clone he would have taken you out." Lena just stared at the woman, trying to master the wobble in her chin. "How? I saw the way you looked at me when I told you what happened. You say you're on my side, but you didn't believe it. I told Dax about something I remembered from when I was little, and he didn't believe that—because you all have that all figured out. If she was my clone, then we were identical. How the hell am I supposed to prove I'm Lena? 143

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"What could I say? What could I do? What could possibly be different between me and a duplicate that would prove it, and who would believe it anyway? It seems to me that everyone here has already decided." When Mel said nothing more, just stared at her sympathetically, Lena whirled and fled the med lab. She was halfway down the corridor to the tube before she realized she had no idea where she was going, no destination in mind, no where to go even to be alone and think. She couldn't escape. She was on a ship, in space, and she had no place on board that was her space. She found herself in the deserted gym with no memory of even heading for it and simply stared at the huge room for several moments before she skittered into a dim corner, and curled into a tight ball, tucking her chin against her knees and covering her ears with her hands. She hadn't done it since she was a child, but when she'd been very young making herself 'invisible' had made her feel safer. She didn't give much thought to the fact that her fear had driven her to such a mindless, useless attempt to protect herself by reverting to her childhood habit of finding a dark corner to hide in. She couldn't think at all for many moments. The act itself seemed to bring back a flood of memories she'd tucked away long ago and refused to think of since, but then it had been years since she'd felt so completely vulnerable, so lost, so alone. The last time she'd felt even close to the way she felt now she had been barely four. She couldn't remember her mother. She had spent years trying really hard to dredge up even a tiny little flicker of an image of her mother and found she couldn't. All she knew 144

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about her mother was what Nigel had told her. She'd gotten sick when Lena was two or maybe three and died because there was no medicine to help her get better. Even Nigel wasn't certain of when or anything beyond the fact that she'd been sick because he'd been so young himself. She'd been four when their father was killed. She remembered that—not how old she'd been—his death. She had tried just as hard not to remember that day as she'd worked to remember something about her mother. But she'd never been able to successfully erase that horror from her mind. Her father had brought them to the city, hoping to find her mother's sister so that there would be somebody to look after them while he went off to try to find work. They hadn't found her, but they had found a place to stay, briefly, until the people that claimed it was theirs came. They claimed the food their father had found was theirs, too, and they'd killed him because he'd taken it to feed himself and her and Nigel. He'd tried to reason with them at first, offered to find food to replace what he'd taken, and then tried to fight them when they'd ignored every attempt to placate them and attacked. She'd been paralyzed by the sight, unable to do anything but watch, wanting to run to her father to try to help. She had tried. She'd finally managed to shake off the paralyzing fear and run toward them, beating at them with her fists until she'd been struck by a flying arm, or leg, or body and knocked flat, trampled by the heaving mass of bodies rather than intentionally struck. Her father had seen, though, and he'd yelled at Nigel to take her and run, to hide. 145

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He'd said he would find them. It was the last thing he'd said to them, that he'd find them. They had run. She could still remember how hard she'd run, how scared she was. Even when Nigel had found a place for them to hide that was too small for a grown person to get into, she'd been terrified, too scared even to cry. Her and Nigel had curled up tightly together and stayed that way all night and the next day, because their father hadn't come for them like he'd promised, they had gone back to look for their father. They'd found him lying in a pool of blood, battered almost beyond recognition, and naked because they'd taken every thing he had, right down to his shoes. For a while, they'd tried to make him get up again. When he wouldn't, they hadn't known what to do. They'd stayed for a while, waiting, hoping, but after a time they'd been driven by hunger and thirst to try to find something to eat, something to quench their thirst. Morris had found them after that. It had always seemed to her that it was a very long time after that. That there had only been her and Nigel for weeks, maybe months, but she knew that had to have been only because they were both scared to death, hungry, and lost, and too young to have any real conception of time. It seemed doubtful, now, that it could have been much more than a few days or they'd have starved because Nigel had been barely six and had no more idea of how to find food than she did. She could remember, almost as if it had only been yesterday, looking up to find the big man squatted down in front of the pipe where she and Nigel had hidden. At first, 146

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she'd been afraid of him, too. There'd been something about his eyes, thought, the way he looked at her and Nigel, that had made her feel safer than she could remember feeling since their daddy had died. Abruptly, she knew why. She'd seen the same pain, the same empathy in eyes just like his—her mother's eyes. Her chin wobbled at the realization. Tears stung her eyes. All this time, and she'd never really known why she had trusted Morris enough to go to him when he'd called to her. She wondered if Nigel had ever realized that, or maybe it hadn't been that at all for him. Maybe he'd gone simply because he was cold, hungry, and tired, and Morris was the only adult who had even seemed to notice them, certainly the only one who'd told them he was going to take them home and take care of them. Those thoughts dried Lena's tears. Nigel would know her! Even if they tried to convince him that she was only a clone, she remembered things that only she and Nigel could possibly know! Morris had never even known the full story, because they hadn't wanted to talk about it, and he hadn't pushed once he'd asked about their parents and they had told them that both of them were sleeping. The spark of hope died almost as quickly as it had ignited. She might not live long enough to see Nigel. What if they decided it would be better if Nigel just thought she'd died in prison? That thought resurrected the memory of the prison, but also another memory. Dax had told them to put her in the brig when they'd first boarded the ship. She didn't know why 147

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she hadn't been locked up, but it suddenly seemed like a better place to be than roaming a ship full of people who wanted her dead. It couldn't possibly be any worse than where she'd been and she'd endured that for weeks. Surely, where ever they were going, it wouldn't be a very long trip? And she would be safer if everyone was locked away from her. Surging to her feet, she wiped the lingering moisture from her eyes and hurried from the gym. The brig would be in the bowels of the ship, she knew. Heading for the tube again, she climbed down the ladder to the lowest level. It was dark, for there were only a few dim lights along the narrow corridor that ran between the clutter of equipment and machinery on that level, but she could see an area that was more brightly lit at the opposite end. There was only one guard on duty. When he saw her approaching him along the corridor, he virtually leapt from the chair he'd been sitting in. "This area is off limits, ma'am." Lena stared at him in dismay. "But ... I'm supposed to be here. The captain said I was to be put in the brig after Mel took care of my injuries," Lena said, feeling stupid for demanding to be locked up, and fearful at the same time that he would refuse now that she'd convinced herself she would be safe, that no one would feel threatened enough to feel like she had to be terminated, even if they still thought she was a clone, as long as she was locked away. He gaped at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Nobody told me," he responded suspiciously. "And why would you be down without an escort?" 148

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"Just put me in a cell, and then you can call and ask the captain about it." "They're full, ma'am," he said with the same mixture of indignation and surprise as a desk clerk would of someone demanding a room when there weren't any available. She hadn't thought of that. "Well, can't you put some of them together?" Again she received the, 'this woman's crazy' look. "I'm the only one on duty right now. We don't move prisoners unless there are three men down here." "But ... I need to be here!" she exclaimed in distress, feeling all of the fear she'd managed to fight down crowding back into her like water over a burst dam. **** "You think it'll work?" Dax sent the security chief, who was hovering over his shoulder, a narrow eyed glare and the man stepped back uncomfortably. Returning his attention to the quad-screen, he saw that Mel had just looked up at the vid. Mouthing the word 'asshole,' she turned away. Dax's lips thinned, but he ignored her insubordination, switching from vid to vid, tracking Lena as she raced from the med lab. He frown drew his brows tightly together over the bridge of his nose when she stopped at the gym and went in. Taken totally by surprise, he watched in confusion as she scurried into a dim corner and crouched into a tight ball, covering her ears with her hands. 149

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For many moments, he simply stared at her, too stunned to figure out what she was doing. Abruptly, an errant memory surfaced. It might not have if she hadn't mentioned the incident to him earlier, but in any case, he did remember even though it was the only time he'd been around her when she was little, the only time he'd tried to go home after he'd left. He and his father had gotten into an argument about the waifs his father had brought into his home. It hadn't taken much for the argument to escalate into bellowed accusations and recriminations about his mother, because he'd always blamed his father for his mother's death and, to him, it had only seemed to add insult to injury that his father had pretty much ignored his own family and then taken in someone else's. When they'd finally exhausted every curse they could fling at each other, his father had looked around, discovered Lena and Nigel had vanished, and promptly gone into a panic. They'd found Nigel quickly enough, hiding under his bed, but they'd turned the apartment upside down twice before he'd finally discovered Lena in the back of a closet behind a stack of boxes in a space so small he wouldn't have thought she could squeeze into it. She'd been curled into a tight little ball, her tiny hands over her ears to shut out the angry bellows of him and his father and he'd felt so shamed by his behavior and the things he'd said, it was that that had kept him away more than anything his father had said. "What's she doing?" 150

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"Hiding," Dax said grimly, just like she had when she was a baby—like Lena had. No clone would have 'remembered' the things she did, the things that had driven Lena to try to protect herself in the only way she knew how whenever she felt threatened. "Not very well," the security chief said, chuckling. He took a step back at the look of rage in Dax's eyes when he surged to his feet. "Is there something about terrorizing people that you find amusing, soldier?" he growled. "No sir." "Good, because I don't keep sick fucks around me. We do what we have to do. Nobody enjoys it." "What's eating him?" the man muttered when Dax had disappeared through the access tube. "You're lucky he didn't stomp the shit out of you and throw your broken, bleeding carcass in the brig," Rodriguez retorted when the man turned to look at him. "What did I say?" Rodriguez shook his head at the man. "You are stupid, man. Either he's right and you are a sick fuck, or you just haven't had the pleasure of watching somebody you care about replaced by a stinking clone." **** She'd vanished by the time Dax reached the gym. After glaring at the empty room for several moments, Dax moved to the com. "Cline, where is she?" "She's in the hold, Captain." "Fuck!" Dax growled. Striding from the room, he sprinted down the corridor toward the aft tube, hooked the heels of his 151

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boots on the vertical bars and slid down the three levels to the hold. She was arguing with the guard when he landed. Shaking his hands to cool the friction burn, he headed toward the bow where the brig was located. She whirled to face him when she heard his boots clicking along the metal tiles of the corridor. For several moments, she merely stared at him, as if she was trying to gather her wits. "You bastard!" Lena snarled when she saw that it was Dax who'd come up behind her and the soldier, her fear and frustration instantly transformed into rage. Launching herself at him, she swung at him with her fists, landing blows at wild random, mostly on his hard arms and shoulders. "Why didn't you just leave me there? You're as bad as they are!" It only fed the flames of her fury that he made no attempt to evade her or to block the punches she slung at him. It only made her more determined to hurt him. "Damn you!" she screamed at him hysterically when she'd beat at him until her fists and arms were bruised all over and she could hardly lift them to swing at him. He caught her wrists. "Finished?" he snarled at her through gritted teeth, giving her a hard shake. "No!" she screamed back at him, fighting the sudden wobble in her chin. "I'll kill you if anything happens to Nigel because of you! Why did you drag him into this, damn you?" "You dragged him into this," he said tightly. The statement was as effective as a slap, knocking the hysteria out of her like a stunning physical blow. She stared 152

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up at him in dawning horror as the image flickered through her mind of her and Nigel at the diner and her trying to hint of her fears about Morris. "Or, if you need somebody else to blame besides yourself, blame Morris. But don't blame me, lady. I came into this on the tail end." "You want me to lock her up, captain?" Dax's head swiveled toward the guard. "No!" he snarled. Grabbing Lena by one arm, he shoved her back down the corridor toward the access tube. Halting when they reached the tube, he jerked her around to face him, grasped her jaw and lowered his own face until they were almost nose to nose. "I owed you that. I know you're scared, and I'm used to pain, but that doesn't mean I like it. Don't ever try that with me again, especially not in front of one of my men. Understood?" Lena gaped at him in sudden fear, realizing she must have been completely out of her mind to attack him. She'd never done anything like that in her life before, and deciding to pick a huge brute like Dax for her first victim was not the act of someone with a sound mind. Numbly, she nodded at him. "I'm sorry," she said weakly. Releasing her abruptly, he pushed her toward the ladder. "Climb." Swallowing with an effort, Lena grasped a rung and began to climb. "Where are we going?" she asked worriedly when they'd passed two levels and he'd said nothing more. Instead of answering her, he glared at her when she glanced back at him. 153

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When they reached the level of the crew quarters, he told her to give off. Feeling extremely uneasy, she did, waiting until he'd climbed off and grasped her arm. She made no attempt to resist as he led her along the corridor, until she saw the destination he had in mind. She hung back then, for all the good it did. He simply yanked her forward and continued as if he was completely unaware that she was trying to resist. If he hadn't still looked as black as a thundercloud, she might have been able to find enough of her spine to complain. As it was, her tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of her mouth. When he'd opened the door to his cabin and shoved her in, she stumbled toward the bunk, tried to catch her balance and finally sprawled across it on her side, staring up at him wide eyed. He stared back at her for several moments and finally looked away. "Damn it to hell, Lena. Don't look at me like that!" he growled, moving away finally and throwing himself down in the chair behind his desk. After searching the drawers, he pulled out a tumbler and a bottle and poured himself a drink. Lena sat up slowly, licking her dry lips to moisten them. "You said...." He sent her a narrow eyed look. "I'm not ... I'm not ... I won't..." she stammered. His lips thinned. He transferred his gaze from her to the brown liquid in his glass, studied it a moment, and downed 154

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the liquid in one swallow. "I think I might be able to contain myself," he retorted dryly. Embarrassment flushed Lena's face and throat with heat. She didn't know whether to be relieved or not that he'd remembered the 'threat.' On the one hand, she was almost surprised that he did, and that she hadn't had to say anything more to remind him that he'd told her he would consider it as an invitation if he found her in his bed again. On the other, his snide rejection stung. Of course she had threatened to kill him, and she had tried to beat him down. Obviously, he hadn't considered that a turn on, or a come on, she thought wryly. Despite her uneasiness about his temper, she found she felt immensely more secure in Dax's cabin than she thought anybody with any sense should have. She wasn't all together certain she would have objected all that strenuously if he had taken it as an invitation. In fact, she was fairly certain objecting would have been the last thing on her mind. It was a good thing she'd managed to thoroughly piss him off, because she was a complete moron. "You want me to stay here?" she asked, proving to herself and Dax that, yes, she was an idiot. He sent her a look. "Not especially," he growled. There was nothing quite like a warm welcome, Lena reflected miserably, but at least she didn't have to worry about anybody else trying to kill her. Just Dax. "Nigel will know me," she said abruptly. 155

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He said nothing, merely staring at her speculatively. "I knew right off when they ... when they.... "She broke off, struggling against the sudden urge to burst into tears. "They killed him, didn't they? There's no chance that they just imprisoned him?" His face hardened. "None." She wanted to cry. She hadn't really had the chance to let go of her grief over losing Morris. She'd been too scared at first to let on she knew it wasn't the real Morris, and too busy since the attack trying to stay alive. She saw that Dax wasn't just angry. The knowledge hurt him, too, and it didn't seem right to inflict her own sorrow on him when he was struggling so hard to contain his. She'd loved Morris like a father, but he had been Dax's father. That had to wound him deeply, maybe more so because he'd seen so little of him in years and there had been a tremendous barrier between them that they couldn't seem to bridge. "I'm so sorry," she said shakily. He sent her a surprised look and then frowned, pouring himself a second drink. "About what?" Right up until he asked, she hadn't realized that she had so much she should apologize for. Guilt swamped her. "About ... everything. About Morris, about hitting you, about blaming you when it was all my fault." He sent her a searching glance and finally shrugged. "Like I said, I figured I had it coming." She saw with a touch of relief that he merely sipped the second drink. "It wasn't really your fault, you know." She tried not to look too hopeful. 156

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He scrubbed his hand over his chin tiredly. "Mostly, you were just caught up in the middle of things completely out of your control. Nigel would've been dragged in even if you hadn't gone to him for help. They would've still gone after you, and he would still have felt the need to try to help you." Lena thought that over. She knew that much was true, but she also knew that she'd set the entire thing in motion by deciding to try to talk Morris into coming to live with her. "I led them to him, didn't I?" He shrugged. Leaning back in the chair, he lifted his long legs one at the time and stretched them out on the desk top, crossing them. "Maybe." Lena got off of the bed, looked around for some place else to sit and finally sat down on the edge of the bunk again. "I'm pretty sure I did. He said something was going on at the clinic where Nigel worked, and I went to see him not long after I'd been." Dax's gaze flickered over her. After a moment, he drained his glass, set it down carefully on the desk top, and got up. As she watched, he rounded the desk and moved toward her. Her ass came up off of the bunk as he neared her. He sent her a wry glance as he dropped down on the edge of the bunk, tugging his boots off. Lena put a little more distance between them, eyeing him uneasily. "They were already on to Morris," he murmured, lying back against the pillows and draping an arm across his eyes. "That's why I was there the day you came. He'd sent for me, 157

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because he didn't trust anybody else with what he had to say." Stunned by his revelation, Lena moved back to the bunk to stare down at him and finally perched on the edge. "They were? You mean ... I didn't lead them to him? It wasn't my fault?" He sat up so suddenly Lena merely gaped at him, too surprised to consider what the purposeful gleam in his eyes might mean. She gasped as he caught her and rolled, pressing her to the mattress and pinning her down with his weight. A faint smile curled his lips as he gazed down at her startled expression. "Don't look so hopeful," he murmured, snuggling his head next to hers on the pillow. "I'm dead on my feet. I wouldn't be of any use to you if I tried anything." It took many moments for indignation to usurp her stunned surprise. By the time it did, Dax was breathing the heavy, even breaths of sleep.

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Chapter Nine After her second attempt to wiggle out from under Dax failed, Lena decided to leave well enough alone. The first time she tried, his hand merely tightened on her arm. The second time, he lifted his head and very causally threw one leg across her lower body, grinding his pelvis into her hip and proving beyond a shadow of doubt that, regardless of what he'd claimed to the contrary, there were parts of him that were very much alive. She subsided, staring at the ceiling for a while, trying not to think about the warmth of his body against hers, and especially trying not to think about the very different kind of warmth that began to hum through her. He didn't trust her. That fact seemed unavoidable, that, as tired as he was, knowing he had to sleep, he figured the best way to do so was to make sure he didn't have to concern himself about where she was or what she was doing. She didn't delude herself into thinking it was anything else, even if his body said differently. Sighing, she tried to angle her head enough to look down at him. There was an angry red welt on his neck that would probably be a bruise before long. She'd done that. Remorse filled her. She didn't know what had come over her to fly at him like that. She'd never thought she was a violent person. She would never have believed she was capable of such a thing. 159

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She'd been scared, and she'd felt threatened, but neither of those emotions were an excuse for behaving like a complete savage. It had been different when the clone had attacked her, mostly because the clone had attacked. She hadn't been doing anything but trying to defend herself. She had attacked Dax, though. He hadn't done anything to her to warrant the attack. Feeling his fingers grow lax on her wrist, she pulled free and lifted her hand to gently stroke the spot. "I'll live," he murmured. Lena glanced at him sharply, discovering his eyes were open a slit. She wondered how long he'd been watching her. "Go to sleep." Lena sighed. "I'm not very comfortable." "You're a real pain the ass, baby girl," he growled, lifting away from her and pushing at her shoulder until she rolled onto her side facing the bulkhead. She felt a lot more comfortable, for all of five seconds, but he merely scooted up behind her, threw one arm and leg across her and snuggled his groin against her ass. She rather thought she'd been more comfortable with that beast of his against her hip. Having it nudging the cleft of her ass was a lot harder to ignore. So was having his heated breath drifting over her neck and ear. She wiggled, trying to get a little more comfortable. The effect was immediate. His cock grew hard as rock. Angling her head around, she slanted a suspicious glance at his face and didn't know 160

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whether to be relieved or irritated to see his face was completely relaxed. Settling again, she laid perfectly still, waiting for her body, and his, to cool, and somewhere in the rounds drifted off to sleep. **** "Hungry?" Lena stretched, allowing her eyes to drift open at the question. Dax was studying her from across the cabin, one hip propped on his desk. His hair was tousled as if he'd just gotten up himself and his eyes looked nearly as tired as they had when he'd lain down. Still more than a little disoriented, Lena pushed herself upright. "I'd like to bathe." He jerked his head in the direction of the door to his private bath. "You'll have to put on the same uniform, though, unless you want to borrow one of mine." She could imagine how well that would fit. He was at least a foot taller than she was. "This is fine," she murmured, wondering how long she was going to have to live in it. It seemed doubtful she would be seeing any of her own clothes anymore and clothes, like everything else, were hard to come by. The bath didn't have a lock. As unsurprising as that was given the fact that it was Dax's private bath, attached to his cabin, it was still disconcerting. Shrugging it off after a moment, she struggled with the self sealing closure that ran 161

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down the front of the suit and shimmied out of it. It wasn't easy because the room was tiny and the shower took up almost half of it. She might have been inclined to climb into the shower to undress except for two circumstances. It was no bigger than the area outside the shower, in fact smaller, and it was made entirely of crystal clear acrylic, which meant it offered no more privacy. After placing the suit carefully on a hook behind the door, she stepped into the shower, studied the control a moment and finally pressed the decon button. Foaming, decontaminating lather immediately began to spray from a nozzle overhead. The first glob hit her right on top of the head, punctuating the fact that the shower had either been adjusted for Dax, or built to begin with for a tall man. Arching her back and holding her hands out palm up, she caught the stream, scrubbing it over her neck and breasts and belly with her hands and then filled her palms again with the lather and leaned down to lather her feet and legs and genitals. She'd just straightened when she happened to glance toward the door. Dax was standing in the opening, one shoulder propped negligently against the frame, watching her with unabashed interest. Lena jumped all over, throwing lather into her face. His lip curled up at one corner. "When you're done, we'll go down to the mess." Lena glared at him indignantly. He arched a brow at her. She presented him with her back. 162

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"This view's good too," he murmured, laughter threading his voice. "I'm not used to having men in my bath," she said testily. "Good." When she glanced back, she saw he hadn't moved so much as a hair. She thought about telling him to go away, but she doubted he would. He had to know she was uncomfortable with being watched, and that hadn't fazed him. And he had certainly not come in only for the purpose of telling her they would go to eat when she was done. He'd already asked if she was hungry. Deciding to simply ignore him, she finished lathering herself and switched to the rinse. The fine mist that began to spray her from every direction caught her in the face, too. Covering her face, she found that the only way she could avoid the spray was to turn toward the door—where Dax still stood, watching. She tried to ignore him anyway, lifting her arms and legs to make sure she'd rinsed the lather off thoroughly before she shut the rinse off and touched the dry button. The warm air that immediately enveloped her made goose flesh rise on her skin, but it dried most of the water up. Dax tossed a small towel at her as she stepped out of the shower. She caught it by reflex, glancing up at him as she did. There was no amusement in his eyes now. They were stormy, glittering with some emotion that her body sensed and reacted to. Pushing away from the door frame, he stared at her a moment and finally turned and left. 163

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Feeling weak-kneed, Lena dried the residual dampness from her skin and blotted as much water from her hair as she could before she grabbed the uniform and tugged it on. Dax was sprawled in the chair at his desk when she returned to the main room of the cabin, a glass in one hand. She glanced at the glass disapprovingly and then, without saying anything, moved to the lav and looked around hopefully for a comb or brush. "In the cabinet next to my shaver," Dax offered, his voice sounding husky. From the fire water, Lena wondered, or something else? Her hair was still damp when she'd finished combing it, but she merely blotted the wet ends again and left it to dry naturally. It was one of the things she liked about her new hair, that all she had to do was comb it and allow it to dry. But it hadn't been worth what she'd paid for it, she thought as an avalanche of guilt washed over her, wondering if what Dax had said was true, or if he'd only said it to keep her from feeling so guilty that that one act of vanity had cost them all so much. Dax was studying her pensively when she returned the comb and turned to him at last. Without a word, he downed the last of the liquid in the glass, set it down, and stood up. Lena found that her body was still buzzing with ambiguous sensations as she moved along the corridor slightly in front of Dax. He'd settled his hand along her waist, resting on the top of her hip, as if to guide her, which was nonsense of course since the corridor was straight and he must know she'd 164

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already been to the mess hall before. She couldn't decide if it was possessive in nature, or a precaution because she was still an unknown entity, or maybe even protectiveness, but she found it raised the level of awareness in her until she felt almost breathless. When they reached the tube, he gestured for her to precede him. She heard voices coming from the mess hall long before they arrived and the sound instantly redirected her tension from awareness of a sexual nature to anxiety. Slowing, she threw a glance at Dax's face. His grip on her tightened fractionally, urging her forward, but she abruptly felt a protectiveness in his touch and his nearness and some of her uneasiness abated. The mess hall, she discovered to her dismay, was full. If Dax hadn't been directly behind her and had a firm grip on her she would've retreated immediately, particularly since conversations all over the room died the moment she was noticed in the doorway. They picked up again almost immediately as Dax pushed her gently but firmly into the room and guided her toward the buffet. "I already got a tray earlier," she murmured when he took a tray and handed it to her. "You can get it later." She didn't want to argue about it, not when she felt like everybody was listening. Shrugging mentally, she took the tray, but she was very careful this time only to take a little food. She was hungry, but unnerved by being around so many strangers. She would have been anyway, feeling as she 165

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did that all of them watched her, but it made it particularly bad knowing what she did now. A man of obvious tino heritage hailed them as they left the buffet and Dax guided her toward that table, pulling out a chair for her before he set his tray down. "What's the word?" Dax asked without preamble as he settled in the chair beside her. The man glanced at Lena. "One." Dax's brows rose. "Only one?" "It was a trawler." A smile of satisfaction curled Dax's lips. "Good. They took the bait." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out and dropped it on the table in front of them. It pinged metallically as it landed. The tino man stared at it as if it was a snake. After glancing from one man to the other, Lena peered at the tiny fleck of metal. "What is it?" "The last of the locators." "You brought one with us?" the man asked in a strangled voice. Dax shrugged. "They planted six on her. The only thing they could deduce from sending them off in six different directions was either that we'd killed her and cut her up, or we'd removed the locators and sent those off in six different directions—in which case, I thought it might work better to be one of the 'diversions.' "Take it, attach it to a torpedo, and launch it toward the sun of this system when we leave. When you get back to the bridge, you can set a course for home base. Keep a sharp eye 166

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out, though. Once they've eliminated the ships not carrying, they'll figure out pretty quickly which one of the diversions is us." "That was in me?" Lena asked, stunned by the entire conversation. Dax slanted a glance at her. Almost casually, he leaned back in his chair and draped an arm over the back of her chair. "One of six. Obviously, they were pretty certain we'd come in after you." Lena met his gaze. "I didn't know they'd done this," she said faintly. His lips curled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I know." Lena looked down at her plate, wondering if she could manage to choke down enough food not to look like she was a nervous wreck. It wasn't enough everybody on the damn ship thought she might be a clone? Now she might also be a spy? Or a clone who was a spy? She didn't know what to make of his behavior, which seemed to be a vast contradiction. Obviously, he still distrusted her, but he was behaving in a way that would surely convince everyone that saw them together that he'd accepted her, more than accepted that she was the real Lena. His manner had seemed protective as they'd made their way to the mess hall, but almost from the moment they'd stepped into the doorway she'd sensed a subtle change in him from the protective to the possessive. She just wasn't sure whether it was deliberate on his part, or a subconscious reaction to the way the men in the room were all studying her, either 167

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blatantly or furtively, but she didn't think she was imagining it. Dax leaned down until his lips were next to her ear. The gesture, Lena was sure, must look almost like that of a lover to anyone who saw it. "Eat." A shiver traveled through her as the warmth of his breath caressed the sensitive flesh, but she picked up her fork and went through the motions, finding after a few mouthfuls that it was easier. "What do you think would've given them the idea that anyone would consider me important enough to try to get me out?" Dax shrugged. "You were important to Nigel ... and Morris." Lena's head came around so fast a bone popped. Cold washed through her. "You think they know about Nigel offering to help in return for getting me out?" A look of irritation flickered across his features. "Nigel's safe. I'm fairly certain it was the connection to Morris, not Nigel, that interested them most." Lena set her fork down. "Not if he keeps his end of the bargain, he isn't." His lips thinned. "They made the connection between you, Nigel, and Morris before any of this went down. If I was guessing, it would be that they just hoped they could use you to bait their trap. They knew about Morris. They may have suspected that Nigel was the source they were looking for and you were the go between, but I doubt it. They took the informant out that had contacted Morris before he could deliver the goods." 168

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Lena frowned. "They kept interrogating me about the rebels. They thought I knew something. They were asking for names and meeting places." Dax flicked a glance at the man across from him. "They interrogate everybody, just in case they know something," he said slowly. "The fact that they questioned you isn't necessarily significant." Lena frowned, trying to recall anything about those sessions that might give her a clue. "Maybe. There were two of them. One was like a med tech. He gave me the injections and it seemed he was only there for that, and to observe. He said if I knew anything, I'd have to tell them because of what he'd given me." "What did you tell them?" the tino man asked. Lena glanced at him when he spoke. "Nothing. I didn't know anything." She frowned, wondering whether to mention what she had told them or not. Finally, she decided against it. "Morris never told me anything. I didn't even know he was actually involved in the rebel movement. I thought it was just ... talk." "What did Morris talk about?" Lena shrugged. "He was always talking about gov conspiracy. I knew he hated them, and with good reason. But I thought that was all it was. I mean, it just didn't make sense to me. The Prez doesn't have that kind of power anymore, not since just before the downfall, the one back in the early part of the century that abused his office so badly and ruined the economy and the environment that they changed the laws to keep anyone from holding that much 169

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power again. Even the congress, because they were either ineffectual against him, or a part of his agenda, doesn't have that much power anymore. Of course, he never talked to me about the cloning, not until toward the last, but the only way anyone in the gov could benefit would be if they could remain in power, and they can't. The Prez can't. The congress can't, because they can't serve more than two consecutive terms either anymore. It's not like it was in the way back when a lot of them ended up serving in congress for life, getting elected over and over. If it was, then it might make sense." She frowned, thinking about it for several moments. "I suppose," she added slowly, "it could be like a hereditary agenda, programs hidden beneath other programs until most of them don't even know it's there, but if that's the case, there'd be no stopping it short of overthrowing the entire gov and starting from scratch because there wouldn't be one target, or even a handful. It would be policy that would have to be attacked and changed, not people." Dax and the tino man exchanged a speaking glance. "So, that's your theory?" Dax asked. Lena looked at him in surprise. "I don't have a theory. I don't have a clue. I thought all this was just rumors—the cloning. I didn't even realize the rebels were as organized as this," she said, gesturing toward the room at large. "The gov's broke. How could they afford a project like this?" Dax's lips twisted in disgust. "The gov isn't broke. That's a rumor. They're not too broke to live well while the common man suffers, not too broke to keep a standing army to keep everybody in line, just too damned broke to provide any of 170

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the services they're paid for and too busy looking the other way while the wealthy in this country turn the citizens into slave labor for themselves and the gov. There's no life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for any of the people anymore, just the pursuit of survival. And no justice when the home guard is judge, jury, and executioner." "The head of one of the mega corps, you think?" Lena asked tentatively. Dax shrugged. "It's beginning to look like the only way to stop this, the only way to be sure, is to take them all out and let God sort them." **** Lena encountered a dilemma she'd never expected to have to deal with—how to behave as an innocent around people who obviously thought she wasn't. It seemed to her that there was nothing she could do that would change the way they looked at her. If she was friendly, they were suspicious. If she avoided them, she was behaving suspiciously. If she did neither, but merely lingered in the areas where they spent their time off duty, then she was probably just hanging around in hopes that she would overhear something. No one said anything, but they didn't have to. It was the way they looked at her, the way conversations died whenever she approached and then picked up again in an entirely different vein. With no way of knowing how long she might have to remain with them, she made an effort to try to behave as if she was comfortable around the ship's crew, as if she felt like 171

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one of them. It wouldn't have been easy if she hadn't felt that every move she made and every word out of her mouth was being monitored and judged. She was a historian. She spent most of her time alone with books and artifacts. She had never learned how to be sociable, which hadn't mattered before because her work didn't require it and she was satisfied with being a loner. Mel was the only member of the entire crew who seemed to actually try to make friends, but Lena wanted nothing to do with her after the things she'd told her that day in the med lab. Maybe Mel honestly had been trying to be helpful, but she'd only succeeded in making it impossible for Lena to set aside her paranoia. To make matters worse, Dax was increasingly irritable, even though she tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, knowing it couldn't be easy sharing space he was accustomed to having to himself. He spent more and more time on the bridge, and less in his cabin all the time. She might have been relieved that he spent so little time around her since it was becoming harder and harder for her to ignore the fact that Dax was dangerous to her in more ways than she could count. Because there was no getting around the fact that she had passed well beyond merely being attracted to him. She'd begun to feel like a she-cat in heat any time he was in her vicinity, so jittery, so keenly sensitive and on edge that it grated on her nerves, tempting her almost beyond bearing even though she knew becoming intimate with him would be disastrous for her. 172

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Beyond her tenuous position among the rebels, he was a dangerous man, period. Tenderness of any kind seemed to be beyond his understanding, which was small wonder considering the life he had lived and continued to live. Unfortunately, it was that arid desert that she sensed inside of him that drew her just as surely as it unnerved her, touching off a growing need in her to try to give him what he had never had, or at least could barely remember. She was inclined to think that desire was almost like having a death wish because not only was she not at all certain that he would welcome it, but she knew in her bones that she would not be able to hold anything back and she would suffer for it because he was what he was and it was too late to change that. He was a rebel and he would be until he died, or terminated his enemy. Nothing, and no one, was going to turn him from the path he'd chosen. What made the entire situation untenable, though, was that she needed to feel like she had at least one ally and Dax was the only one onboard that she trusted enough even to feel a modicum of security. When the tension between them began to seem more and more explosive instead of less so, she couldn't help but wonder and worry that something she'd said had triggered alarms in his head that he might have been hasty in trusting her even enough to allow her to roam the ship at will and to give her the umbrella of his protection. And she was as torn by the fear that he'd decide to withdraw his protection as she was concerned that any overtures she might think to make toward him would either be flatly, and embarrassingly, 173

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rejected or looked upon with the same suspicion as every thing else she did, that he would think she was trying to seduce him for some evil agenda. Trying to talk her way into acceptance hadn't gotten her anywhere. She'd done her best to allay both Dax and Mel's suspicions and couldn't see that she'd made any appreciable headway even with the two people who seemed most inclined to believe her. It seemed to her, in fact, that the harder she tried, the less they believed. With no idea of what else she could do, she finally decided that the only thing she could do was to try her best to be invisible. Once she was with Nigel, it wouldn't matter what they thought. Nigel would know her. If Nigel was determined to see his part in this through, then she would try to help him and then they could find somewhere to go where they would be safe both from the rebels and whoever was behind the conspiracy to replace thinking human beings with workers that were more like drones. It would've helped her feelings immensely if she'd just known how long she would have to deal with the situation, but she was afraid even to ask that much. When she'd finally nerved herself to ask Mel where they were going and been told 'home base', which she'd known already, she had been so focused on learning some time frame that she'd pressed her for just where home base was located. She didn't need to be physic to see that the question had set off alarms. Mel had looked at her as if she'd just grown two heads and informed 174

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her that only a handful of people knew the exact location and she wasn't one of them. Retribution wasn't long in coming. She'd barely scurried back to her cave when Dax had arrived. One look at his face was enough to assure her that Mel had lost no time trotting to him to tell him Lena was trying to wheedle top secret information out of her. "You have some need to know the location of the base?" he growled after staring at her for several moments as if he was contemplating tearing her head off. Unnerved as she was by the barely leashed violence she sensed in him, Lena's anger surged to the forefront. "I don't care where the damned base is!" she shouted at him. "I want my brother and I want to get out of here and away from you. All of you!" His lips tightened. "If it bothers you that much to share the cabin with me, you can move to the barracks. I'm sure as hell not going to complain about it. I might get some damned sleep!" The threat struck home, sending Lena's anger into a tailspin. "It wouldn't bother me if you didn't go around like ... an old bear all the time! And I do not keep you from sleeping!" "Like hell you don't!" "Fine!" she snapped, realizing she'd painted herself into a corner and only had two options, neither of which was really palatable. She could find some place else to sleep, or she could try to calm the savage beast. She was just mad enough 175

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to be stupid, though, and too hard headed for her own good. "I'll sleep somewhere else." "Good!" Dax snarled. Moving to the bed, he plopped down on the edge and began working his boots off. After glancing at him doubtfully for several moments, Lena finally turned to leave. Unfortunately, she didn't have a clue of where she was going. She sure as hell wasn't going anywhere near the barracks. She was already halfway down the corridor between Dax's cabin and the access tube when she heard him behind her. One look at his face was enough to shoot a rush of adrenaline through her and set her feet in motion. He caught her while she was still trying to decide whether to race up, or down, the ladder. Hooking an arm around her waist, he yanked her off the ladder. Instead of setting her on her feet, though, he turned and strode back to his cabin. She wouldn't have minded being 'made' to do what she wanted to do anyway, except that he was in a mood she didn't quite trust. "Put me down!" she demanded, trying to pry his arm lose. She couldn't, and he ignored her demand until they'd stepped into his cabin again. When he finally released her, she whirled and headed for the door again. He caught her again just as she reached for the release to open it, whirling her around and shoving her against the panel with a palm planted just beneath her breasts. "Baby girl, you are trying my patience." "You don't have any patience! At all!" 176

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He ground his teeth. "I know you don't have a clue of what's going on here," he growled. "But these people here know their lives are on the line. And it's really stupid to make them nervous about your loyalties by asking questions like the one you asked while ago." "I'm not stupid!" she spat at him, struggling with the wobble in her chin. "I know they're just as afraid of me as I am them. I'm just ... tired of being scared all the time. I want Nigel. He'll know me!" Dax stared at her a long moment, his expression haunted. "I know you, baby girl." She sniffed, trying to blink back the tears that began pooling in her eyes. "Then why do you act like you hate me? Why don't you trust me?" He lifted his hand to her chin, stroking his thumb lightly over her lower lip. "I don't trust anybody, baby girl. That's why I'm still alive." She squeezed her eyes closed, twisting her face away from his hand. "I don't see how you could possibly think I would be any sort of threat to you." "Then you're not as smart as I thought you were," he said dryly. He caught her cheeks between both of his hands, pressing his forehead against hers. "I don't hate you. I'm trying to protect you." She looked at him in surprise. "From what?" His lips tightened. "From me."

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Chapter Ten Lena gaped at him in confusion. "I don't understand." "No?" he growled, dropping his hands from her cheeks and lifting his head. Lena couldn't prevent the blush that heated her cheeks. His gaze flickered over her face. Abruptly, he caught her arms and dragged her up against him. His mouth was hard, hot, almost savage as he caught her lips beneath his and breached the sensitive barrier where her lips met with the possessive thrust of his tongue. A tidal wave of need broke over her instantly, swamping her senses, sucking her down into a dizzying whirlpool of mindless need. She made a sound in her throat of want as his taste and scent enveloped her with a breathless rush of excitement, inebriated her until her mind was a swirling morass of confusion. Her strength abandoned her, sucked away by the hot friction of his tongue as he raked it along hers in restless possession, by the heat and hardness of his body as she leaned weakly against him for support. He broke the kiss almost as abruptly, pressing his forehead against hers for a moment, his breathing ragged as he struggled for control. With an effort, she lifted her lids to stare at him when he released her and stepped back, swaying weakly until she managed to lock her knees to keep from melting to the floor. There was wariness in his expression, and something else that took her many moments to understand. "You think I'm 178

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afraid of you," she said in surprise and then frowned, trying to think what she'd done to give him that impression. Abruptly, she remembered that time when he'd been forced to enact a rape to keep her from actually being raped and she knew that had to be it. She hadn't been terrified then, but not of him. He slid a glance her. "Aren't you?" She was, but not afraid that he'd deliberately hurt her, she realized. His lips curled wryly. "That's what I thought." She frowned when he scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly, realizing that he'd managed to regain control when moments before he'd been within a hair's breadth of completely losing it. She should leave well enough alone, she knew, but she found she couldn't. She lifted a hand and placed it lightly on his chest. "I'm not." He fisted one hand around her wrist. "Leave it alone, baby girl." The warning growl of his voice almost tipped the scales in the other direction, but she was beyond caution. Lifting her free hand, she placed it on his chest, slipping it upward as she came up on her tiptoes and tipped her head back, offering her lips to him, offering her everything to him. He glared at her warningly. Refusing to back down, she brushed her lips lightly along his throat, just above his collarbone. "I'm not Morris' baby girl anymore," she murmured. Settling one hand in the middle of her back, he cupped the other over the back of her head, digging his fingers into her hair and tugging her head back. "I did warn you," he 179

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muttered hoarsely, covering her mouth with a violent possessiveness that sent Lena's heart skittering into over time. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, locking her knees as her world seemed to spin off kilter in a dizzying rush that was, impossible as it seemed, more debilitating than the one she'd experienced before. Her own sense of urgency, fed by the hunger of his possession, goaded her to kiss him in return, to move closer, to feel his body against hers. She traced her tongue along his, suckled it. Uttering a groan from deep in his chest, he withdrew his mouth from hers abruptly and dragged open mouthed kisses over her throat to her ear. Her knees buckled as he teased the sensitive shell with his mouth and tongue. He caught her, his hand slipping from the middle of her back to cup one buttock and pull her snugly against his erection. Her flesh, all over her body, seemed to tighten, prickling with keen sensory perception so that the faintest of contact between them sent fresh waves of delight and awareness through her to gather at her core. "You're going to hate me for this," he muttered against her throat. "No." "I'm going to hate me for this," he said harshly, brushing his face along her neck and throat and following with nibbling kisses. The light brush of his engorged flesh against her mound only tormented her with unfulfilled promise. She lifted upward on her toes, slipping her arms around his neck to steady herself and arch against him. Uttering a pained grunt, he 180

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released his grip on her buttock and bent her back over one arm. Grasping the front of her uniform, he gave it a wrenching tug that separated the front from neck to groin with a sound ominously like ripping fabric. It barely registered in her mind beyond the fact that she couldn't touch his skin. She made a grab for the front opening of his suit as he tugged the back of her uniform down, trapping her arms in the fabric when it reached her elbows. Frustration flickered through her briefly. It vanished the moment his mouth closed over one distended nipple. The jolt of pleasure that went through her made her belly clench almost painfully with need and turned her knees to water. He caught her as she began to wilt toward the floor, lifting her and striding toward the bunk. Even as she landed solidly in the middle and began trying to wiggle out of the snug fitting cloth, he came down over her, covering her mouth in another heated kiss that forced everything from her mind but savoring the heat and urgency of his kiss. Somehow, she managed to wrest her arms free, curling them around him as he moved from her mouth to her breasts, scouring her with the heat that flashed through her with the teasing suction of his mouth. She began to thrash feverishly beneath his assault, gasping for breath. "Dax!" she gasped a little desperately. He lifted his mouth from her breast, shifted upward to suck a love bite on her throat and then to brush a light kiss across her lips. "Easy, baby." Squeezing her eyes closed, she dug her nails into his shoulders. "Please, Dax. Please." 181

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He sat up, sat back on his heels. Grasping her suit, he peeled it from her hips, and then disentangled it from her legs, propping one foot on either side of his hips so that her thighs were splayed, the lips of her sex parting, exposing the more tender petals of flesh beneath. She slit her eyes to look at him as she felt him shift, watching as he yanked the front of his suit open and peeled it off his arms and shoulders, pushing it down his hips until his cock sprang free. She swallowed as she studied him, feeling her body tighten all over in anticipation, reaching for him as he leaned down. Instead of moving over her, he slipped his hands beneath her hips and lifted them, burying his face against her cleft. Her breath left her as if it had been punched from her lungs. Her body clenched as he dragged his tongue slowly along her cleft and teased her clit until she felt like a mindless, writhing bundle of raw, exposed nerve endings. She sucked in a desperate breath, shuddering, jerking against the intensity of the sensations that pounded through her as he alternately sucked and teased the acutely sensitive nub. "Oh god!" she gasped out shakily, her voice skating the edge of a scream as she felt her body begin to quake, convulsing in hard shudders. He moved over her, burrowing his face against her neck as he thrust his cock into her quaking passage. She gasped sharply, wrapping her arms tightly around him as she dug her heels into the mattress and lifted to meet him. Her body resisted, clinging, still convulsing with aftershocks of release around his hard flesh. She was nearly weeping by the time 182

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he'd claimed her fully, certain he'd wrung every ounce of pleasure from her body that she could bear. Her body responded regardless to his thrusting caresses, gathering itself once more toward culmination. He sucked on her neck and shoulder as the moisture of her body eased his passage at last and he set a desperate rhythm to find his own release. Her body crested, reached the limits of endurance and ruptured with ecstasy. He shuddered as her passage began to quake around his flesh, uttered a hoarse growl and plunged raggedly as his big body began to shake with uncontrollable tremors, pumping his seed into her. They wilted in the heated aftermath, melding together limply, gasping for breath. **** For the first time that he could remember, Dax gave up the relaxation of slumber with reluctance, drifting lazily in and out of awareness for some time before he finally recalled that he had duties to perform and opened his eyes. Lena lay curled up against him, her cheek and one arm resting on his chest. After staring at her sleeping face blearily for several moments, he dropped his head on the pillow once more, closing his eyes against the memories flooding into his mind. They teased him anyway, refusing to be banished. The urge to roll her onto her back and wake her to his possession was so strong his gut tightened almost nauseatingly. As badly as he wanted to, he couldn't afford to indulge himself anymore than he already had. 183

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He shouldn't have touched her at all. It had been hard enough trying to keep his hands to himself before, when he'd only spent three quarters of his time brooding about fucking her six ways from Sunday. Knowing what it felt like sure as hell wasn't going to make it any easier on him. He might have asked himself what he'd been thinking except that he knew the answer. He hadn't been thinking. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he rubbed the bristle on his chin, realizing he must have slept a hell of a long time to produce that much beard and finally eased out from under Lena and got up. He'd abandoned his post in the middle of his shift and he hadn't gone back. There was no way in hell that that was going to slip by unnoticed, especially since he'd left the bridge in a thundering rage and everyone knew what his destination was. "Shit!" he growled, heading for the facilities. She had rolled onto her back when he came out again. The sheet was tangled across her hips, but he glimpsed a tuft of the dark, curling thatch of her mound. He stared at it for several moments, feeling his mouth go dry, before his gaze seemed to travel up her body of its own accord, skimming her flat belly and rounded breasts and settling finally on her face. She looked almost painfully young in her sleep, fragile, innocent, and at the same time pure temptress. If Morris had still been alive, he would've cut his heart out for touching Lena. No doubt Nigel would be willing to take Morris' place and do the honors. 184

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Disgusted with himself, he moved to the lav and shaved quickly, then pulled a fresh uniform from his locker and dragged it on. She stirred as he shoved his feet into his boots and he froze, half hoping she would wake up and half dreading that she would. She didn't, merely rolled onto her belly, and he relaxed again. Moving to the door, he paused, staring at her for several moments and finally left, mentally kicking himself all the way to the bridge. Rodriguez made the mistake of grinning at him when he flung himself down in his chair. "You got something on your mind, Rodriguez?" he snarled. Rodriguez's eyes widened. "No, Sir!" "What's our status?" "Twenty four hours. The communications officer tried to hail base, but there was no response." Dax frowned, feeling his gut tighten uncomfortably. "They must have a black out. Give it six and hail them again. Any sign of stalkers?" "That's a negative, Captain." Nodding, Dax retreated into his own thoughts. It wasn't really that unusual for base to go silent. In fact, they didn't respond almost as often as they did. The idea was not to be predictable, because there was always a chance the enemy might get hold of the frequency and try to hail them so that they could triangulate the beacon. His gut was telling him it was a bad sign though. Unfortunately, not only was there not a damned thing he 185

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could do about it, right or wrong, but he wasn't even sure he could trust his instincts at the moment. They sure as hell hadn't kicked in when he needed them or he would've left the fucking cabin before he succumbed to idiocy. Sighing heavily, he propped his elbow on the armrest and dropped his chin onto his balled fist, staring balefully at the blackness of the viewing screen. He should have worked off his frustrations on one of the female crew members, he thought irritably. There were at least two that wouldn't have minded scratching his itch, and if he'd taken care of the problem, it wouldn't have gotten to be a huge problem. He might have been able to exert a little more control. Doubtful, he decided. It she'd just kept running instead of deciding to stop they would've both been better off. Now he had a hell of a fucking mess on his hands. He had no business with Lena, at all, for any reason. She didn't belong in his world, couldn't have fit in if she'd tried, and it wasn't hard to see she didn't want to try. And he sure as hell didn't fit into her world. Not that he thought there was any likelihood that she would consider such a thing even if he would. She was probably in the shower now scrubbing herself raw and trying to erase him from her body and mind. He didn't know why she'd let him—probably that soft heart of hers—but she was bound to regret it as soon as she'd had time to think it over. Twenty four hours and she'd be off his hands. 186

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Twenty four hours and he'd probably never set eyes on her again, not in this life time anyway because, sure as hell, the minute her feet touched down she was going to be off like a cat shot in the ass. That would be a relief. A real fucking relief. It was just a god damned shame he hadn't had enough brains to keep his dick in his pants in the meantime, because it was going to be hell trying to put her out of his mind. **** The bed was cold when Lena finally cracked a wary eye and glanced around the room. Without a great deal of surprise, she saw that Dax was gone. Stretching, she lay frowning at the ceiling for a while, wondering what had possessed her to provoke Dax when she'd seen he was struggling against his needs. She shouldn't have pushed it. She should have left well enough alone. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone and it had been stupid and sappy of her to think that it was her he needed when all he'd really needed was to get laid. She didn't blame him for something that had been her own decision, regardless of what he'd seemed to think at the time, and she certainly didn't hate him. It had been every bit as wonderful as she'd known it would be and she was going to try to look upon the experience in a positive light. She'd wanted him. He'd wanted her. They'd had wild, fabulous sex, and that was that. It wasn't going to develop into something more meaningful, not for him anyway. She knew that. She'd known 187

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that all along, and she'd also known that she was too susceptible to becoming emotionally entangled with him to risk it without also risking terrible emotional pain. If she suffered the consequences she had no one to blame but herself, but she thought she was going to be all right. They couldn't be very far from home, now, she knew. How deeply could she fall in so short a space of time? **** Lena discovered for the first time since she'd boarded the ship that she was bored. That was her first indication that her outlook had changed radically. The second was when she realized she kept checking the time and wondering when Dax would go to the mess hall. She hadn't willingly left the dubious security she'd felt being in Dax's cabin since she'd been with the rebels. It disturbed her to realize that she wanted to leave it because she wanted to be with Dax and she knew she wouldn't be allowed to go up to the bridge. She didn't find it particularly comforting to realize that nothing had changed, really, except that Dax had said he knew her. One vote of confidence out of an entire crew, especially coming from a man like Dax, shouldn't have been enough to give her the sense of security she felt now. Of course, he was the captain, and she knew his crew would obey him, but she also thought she knew Dax pretty well. If it served his purposes, he would lie, and do it very well. He might only have told her he believed her and knew she was who she claimed to be because it had suited him to do so 188

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at the time, maybe for no other reason than to knock a hole in her defenses so that he could get a piece of ass. She didn't think that was the reason. She thought he'd told her the truth, but she didn't know. It could just as easily be another mind fuck to see how she would react, because she'd figured out that that was what that conversation with Mel had been about. She knew why they'd done it. She knew Mel had probably only been following orders from Dax, but she hadn't forgiven either one of them for scaring her out of her wits. She blamed Mel most, even though she knew it was unreasonable and that she should've been blaming Dax. And that worried her. Wanting to be with him plus wanting to forgive him for anything and everything equaled stupid female falls for totally inappropriate male, because he was dark, dangerous, wounded, sexy as hell, and she'd been itching to mount his rod since the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. Morris would have had a brain seizure if he'd ever heard anything like that come out of her mouth, let alone discovered she thought that way. He certainly would have had a stroke if he'd had any clue that she'd thrown 'lady' Lena to the wind the moment she'd gotten the chance to get into Dax's bed. And Dax was a cauc. Morris had expected her to respect her heritage and find some nice, wholesome, well educated neg who was a gentleman to settle with and make babies. If Dax had been a neg, Morris would've been furious about her taking up with him, because he wasn't a gentleman, he 189

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was probably self-educated at best, and he was never going to hold an upper class job or live in an upper class neighborhood. Dax wasn't going to be hanging around long enough to produce any breeds, though, and Morris wouldn't be around to see it. He wasn't going to be around to enjoy any of the grandchildren he'd always talked about, but she didn't doubt for one moment that Morris had loved her without reservation. He might have been disappointed in her if she'd chosen to marry outside her race and produce breeds, or even if she'd decided she was in love with a man that wasn't upper class, but he would still have loved her and them. As long as it wasn't Dax. She had known Morris well enough to know that he must have loved his son deeply and been proud of him, but he'd never spoken about Dax to either her or Nigel, and he wouldn't allow Dax anywhere around them. That couldn't have been because he was worried about anything happening between her and Dax because she wasn't old enough for that sort of problem to cross his mind. The only reason that she could think of was because he'd made up his mind that he was going to keep her and Nigel away from the sordid side of life that was the only thing Dax knew. Except for worrying about pleasing or displeasing Morris, on a personal level, she didn't care. She never had cared in spite of the fact that Morris had tried his best to instill a class snobbery upon her and Nigel, sent them to the best schools, made sure they got the education they needed to find 190

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positions that would place them in the upper class economy and social hierarchy. And she hadn't cared because Morris, bless him, didn't fit into that society. She supposed he'd never figured that out, never realized that if he'd succeeded she would have been ashamed of him and her beginnings. She'd assumed a façade that would please Morris She had walked, talked and behaved like a lady because he was determined she was going to be one, but, deep down, she was still Morris' baby girl. She was shy, but she wasn't particularly squeamish about the more sordid side of life because as carefully as Morris had tried to shield her, there probably hadn't been a whole lot that she'd missed about the world she'd grown up in. Drugs or no drugs, if she'd been a 'real' lady, she should have been revolted about the incident in the jail cell—maybe not at the time because she hadn't had her wits about her, but certainly afterward. She'd had plenty of time since to piece it all together and feel shame if she was going to feel any, or horror. If she hadn't been drugged, she probably would have been terrified at the violence. She knew she would've been humiliated past bearing to be mounted in full view of so many men, as if she was no more than an animal, but she hadn't really been aware of that at the time and she supposed that was why it still didn't particularly bother her. Not that she supposed it really mattered how she felt about it or that Morris wouldn't have liked it if he'd discovered she was mooning over Dax. 191

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And it didn't really matter how she felt about it, because she knew Dax lived by the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, not the laws of societal man. He wasn't going to feel any sort of obligation to make things right because he'd taken what he wanted—which she didn't mind because she would've hated that. But sex probably didn't mean any more to him that relieving bodily need and he also wasn't very likely to think he just couldn't live without her only because it had been good. For that matter, she didn't know if it had been particularly good for him. She'd been too busy enjoying it herself to think much about pleasing him. That anxiety occupied her mind for a while, but she discovered trying to recall wasn't very helpful. Details were hazy and mostly centered on how she'd felt about everything. Besides, dwelling on it very quickly had her nearly as on edge and needy as she had been before she'd been thoroughly pleasured by the man. Deciding when she saw that it was meal time that it would be better to brave meeting up with Dax in public view than to stay in his cabin and dwell on her mostly unpleasant thoughts, Lena left the cabin and went to the mess hall. There were a number of people gathered there, some already settled, others still selecting their food, but she didn't see Dax among them. Disappointed, and finding that she wasn't nearly as comfortable about joining the crew as she'd thought she would be, she was tempted to turn around and leave again. Unfortunately, she knew she'd been noticed and she 192

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didn't want them to think that she'd only come to look for Dax. Her paranoia had kicked in, and she was instantly certain that they'd know that food was the last thing on her mind. They'd probably spend the rest of the day ribbing Dax about his conquest with the mousy wall flower. Stiffening her spine, she entered the mess hall after only a brief and, she hoped, largely unnoticed check at the door. She wasn't certain of where to sit once she'd filled the tray, but finally she spied the tino man she and Dax had sat with before. He didn't flag her over, but there were two empty seats at the long table and she decided to take the corner seat that she'd taken before. She had only managed to swallow a couple of bites of food when a sort of tension seemed to ripple through the room. Glancing up, she saw that Dax had just stepped through the doorway. Their gazes collided. Without thought, she smiled at him tentatively. He stopped as if he'd hit a brick wall. For several panicked moments Lena thought he was going to reverse engines and leave again. Her cheeks flamed. Hastily, she averted her gaze to her tray, trying not to look as horrendously uncomfortable as she felt. There was no way to look unconcerned. She knew that, and she could just imagine what sort of thoughts were running through the minds of everyone that had noticed that byplay. She was so focused on trying to pretend to be unaware of Dax that she jerked all over when his tray landed on the table 193

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next to her, spilling the water she'd just picked up to drink all down the front of her suit. Setting the glass down again quickly, she grabbed her napkin and dabbed at the water before it could soak through. When she looked up from drying the puddle that had formed at her crotch to see if Dax had noticed, she looked him right in the eye ... sort of. His gaze was actually on the dark spot on her crotch. As if he wasn't even aware that he'd been sitting perfectly still, staring at her crotch for long enough that everyone sitting at the table had noticed, he finally glanced at his tray and picked up his fork. "Hungry today, eh, Captain?" The tino's teasing grin flat lined when Dax looked up and glared at him. The remark drew Lena's attention to his tray, though, and her eyes widened. Dax slid a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Dark color started at his neck and moved slowly upward until it disappeared beneath his hair line. The blush caught Lena completely by surprise, shattering her defenses. When he flicked a gaze at her, she smiled at him tentatively as she had before. He scowled, rubbing his chest absently as he looked away again. Rebuffed, again, Lena struggled to focus on finishing her meal so that she could leave without giving the appearance of flight. It might have been sawdust for all she noticed anything about the flavor. 194

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There was nothing quite like being relieved of all doubts, she thought morosely, wondering why she'd allowed herself even a tiny sliver of hope that something had changed in their relationship. She should have known by the way he'd sneaked out and left her asleep that he was trying to avoid any sort of confrontation. It was a good thing she'd gone though, she decided after a few moments, forced him to publicly snub her, because now she knew beyond any doubt where she stood with him and she could put the whole thing behind her as experience. "I guess you didn't manage to hail base camp?" the tino asked after several moments. Dax glanced at him. "Still nothing. You can give it another couple of hours and try again. Next time, though, instead of trying a hail, just send the 'package retrieved' code. If they're listening, but can't broadcast, they'll know it's us and that the mission was a success." It didn't take Lena more than a split second to figure out that cryptic remark. She was a package, Lena thought indignantly? Finishing her meal, she got up abruptly and left the table, disposing of her tray, utensils, and her glass. She was so hurt and angry that she didn't realize the tread she was vaguely aware of behind her was Dax until she'd stepped into the cabin. The door slid half closed and then popped open again, jerking her out of her abstraction. Dax caught her even as she whirled to face him. 195

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Chapter Eleven Caught completely off guard, Lena didn't even have time to throw up defenses before she felt the pressure of Dax's hard, demanding mouth over hers, felt the possessive thrust of his tongue as he breached the barrier of her lips and claimed her with his touch and taste. Heat and dizziness washed through her instantly, draining her of strength, will, or even the thought of protest. She was barely even aware that he'd caught her tightly with one arm around her shoulders until she heard the sound of her suit being wrenched open and felt the brush of his other hand along her skin, and coolness as he parted the fabric. "Never smile at me like that again—in public. I almost had a heart seizure right then and there," he growled when he lifted his mouth from hers, shoving his hands beneath the fabric of her suit and peeling it from her body even as he explored her throat and the upper slope of her breasts. The comment touched off a flicker of doubt, but Lena discovered she was already too far gone to be capable of anything approaching normal thought processes. It was all she could do to hold herself upright as he moved down her body, exploring her bare skin with his mouth and hands as he dragged the suit down to her ankles. When she lifted her foot to free it from the fabric, he caught her thigh, draped it over his shoulder and burrowed his face against her mound. 196

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Her knees wobbled and gave out as his tongue delved her cleft. He caught her, lowering her to the floor instead of rising and carrying her to the bunk. Dragging the suit from her other foot, he hooked both of her legs over his shoulders, lifted her hips clear of the floor and fastened his mouth hungrily over her mound. Lena gasped, jerked, shuddering at the ferocity of his assault that sent her spiraling so rapidly toward culmination that she couldn't catch her breath. Her body seized as it caught her, began to quake and convulse almost painfully as he continued to lick and suckle her clit with ravenous need. Unable to evade the maddening tease of his tongue, Lena felt her climax jolting endlessly, until she began to think she would die if he didn't stop. "Dax!" she cried out when she felt like she was on the verge of passing out. She thought for several moments that he was too intent even to have heard her. Finally, he lowered her hips until they were resting on his bent knees, dragged her legs from his shoulders and planted her feet on the floor, and then grabbed her arms and jerked her upwards. She slumped weakly against him, her arms draped around his neck to keep from falling, but too limp to be of much use to her. Lifting her hips with both hands, he spread her cleft with his fingers and pressed the head of his cock into the mouth of her sex, bearing down on her hips slowly but relentlessly until she was gasping. When he'd sunk his cock inside of her to the root, he bore down on her more tightly, grinding his groin 197

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against her nether lips as if he felt the need to go deeper still, until his cock head was butting her womb almost painfully. She groaned, dropping her cheek against the top of his head as he held her there for many moments, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Her neck felt too weak even to hold her head up. Abruptly, he released her, grabbed her hips and began to lift her and press her down again until he was slamming into her. Tremors began to run through his arms, his entire body. As suddenly as he'd begun pounding into her, he stilled, uttered a choked groan and wrapped his arms tightly, almost crushingly, around her again, his body shaking so violently with tremors that they swayed precariously. Heaving a shuttering sigh, he loosened his grip on her and finally leaned down, supporting them with one arm and easing her to the floor with the other. When she'd settled to the floor like a puddle of melted wax, the arm he'd been using to brace both of them gave way and he slumped onto his side and then rolled onto his back, gasping for breath. Mellow in the aftermath, Lena nevertheless began to feel as if she'd just been run over by a tank as the cold hardness of the floor began to sink in—stunned, wondering if she was going to feel pain in a few moments, wondering what had just happened. Finally, with an obvious effort, Dax got off the floor, reached down and lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Settling her on the mattress, he leaned over her, kissed the tip of each breast briefly, and then her lips before he straightened. She stared up at him in bemusement. Slowly, it 198

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sank into her mind that she was splayed naked and spread eagle to his gaze ... and he hadn't even taken off his clothes. After staring at her for several moments, he moved to the lav, washed his genitals and stuffed them back into his suit, closing the seam. He frowned when he'd finished adjusting himself. After looking around a little absently, he grabbed the towel he'd discarded by the lav earlier and dabbed at the crotch of his suit. Lena sat up abruptly as he headed toward the door, bracing herself on her elbows. "You are not going out like that!" He stopped, turned to look at her in surprise. "It's not noticeable." "Like hell it isn't!" He frowned, but after a moment his lips twitched. "Language, baby girl!" Lena felt her jaw go slack for about two seconds and then rage kicked in. "You are not my father!" she snarled, looking around for something to throw at him and coming up with nothing more substantial than the pillow. He caught it. His good humor had vanished though. Anger simmered in his eyes. "If you're pissed off because of what just happened, then you need to think before you wave that tight little ass of yours in my face, because I want it and if you offer it I'm damned well going to take it." Lena gasped in outrage, feeling her face flame at his crudity, remembering abruptly that he'd lifted her up to devour her as if she'd been a sandwich and wondering 199

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indignantly if that was what he was referring to. "I did not wave it in your face!" "Exactly what did you think I was going to think when you gave me that come hither smile back in the fucking mess?" "I was just trying to be friendly," Lena snapped angrily, more because she realized instantly that he hadn't made the mistake, or misinterpreted anything. She had very purposefully gone down to the mess hall at a time when she'd thought she was likely to meet up with him. And she had smiled at him, which was enough to give any man the same impression that Dax had gotten, because if she'd been pissed off about it, she wouldn't have smiled at him. She would've given him a drop dead glare. Balling the pillow up, he shot it back at her like a cannon ball. Instinctively, she ducked. The sound of parting fabric was the only warning she got before she felt her wrists seized. He bore her down onto her back, pinning her with his weight, manacling her wrists to the bed on either side of her head. His expression was implacable when she blew her hair out of her face and peered up at him in stunned surprise, his eyes were narrowed and tumultuous with emotion. "I am not your friend," he said through clenched teeth. "And I'm damned sure not your brother or your father—I'm not that damned much older than you. Maybe I'm a dumb fuck, but when a woman I've just fucked senseless gives me a smile instead of a drop dead look, I figure that means she didn't mind it." She hadn't realized what that ominous ripping sound was until she felt the head of his cock nudge her cleft, press the 200

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fleshy folds apart and then move down unerringly toward the mouth of her sex. She wasn't hot, wasn't even warm, but it didn't matter, because her sex was still thoroughly lubricated. With little difficulty, he wedged the head of his cock into her and drove deeper. She gasped, instinctively tensing. She heard his teeth grinding together as he withdrew slightly and drove into her again even as she recovered her wits and began squirming against his hold. Ignoring her attempts to free herself, he bore down inexorably until she was panting for breath, could feel his pelvis grinding into the tender flesh of her cleft. A mixture of pain, fear, and panic went through her as he stopped, gasping harshly, his own face twisted as if he was in pain. Abruptly, an image flashed through her mind, of Dax above her as he was now, his face contorted with remorse, his teeth gritted. Scream damn it. This is supposed to be a rape. The fear and panic vanished as abruptly as it had descended upon her. This wasn't about anger, and it wasn't about power. It was about protecting her. He was trying to drive her away, she realized, trying to make her believe he was a heartless monster so that she'd keep her distance. Because he thought she would get hurt? Or because he was afraid he would? He released her wrists the moment she ceased to struggle. His head dropped forward. Lifting her hands, Lena cupped his face in her hands. When he glanced up at her warily, she slipped her hands around his neck and tugged, lifting up to 201

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meet him when he resisted and brushing her lips lightly across his. He released a harsh breath that he'd been holding. Settling against her, he buried his face in the pillow beside her head. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him for several moments and finally began to stoke his back soothingly, arching her neck to kiss his shoulder, the side of his neck. She hesitated when she reached his ear and finally teased it with the tip of her tongue, rocking her hips against his. A shudder rippled through him. Turning his face to hers, he moved his lips over hers in gentle exploration, his touch more apologetic than coaxing. She sensed when he tensed that he would withdraw. She wasn't about to allow it. Slipping her hands down his back, she cupped his buttocks, arching up to meet him. He lifted his head, studied her for a long moment and then dipped his head to kiss her, this time deeply, with growing need and hunger. She kissed him back, sucking on his tongue until he began move faster and the warmth inside of her blossomed into a conflagration. Her body began to convulse with release the moment she felt him tense as his own climax caught him. They lay perfectly still for many minutes afterward. Finally, Dax stirred, lifting slightly away from her. "Lena...." She felt her throat clog with emotion. Lifting her hand she touched a finger to his lips. "It's all right. I know." She didn't, actually. She just knew she didn't want to hear what he was going to say. She didn't need or want an 202

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apology, if that was what he'd had on his mind, and if he'd intended to tell her that there was nothing between them, and never would be, then she also didn't want to hear that. She knew she couldn't stay with him, and he wouldn't stay with her. As soon as he'd handed her over to Nigel, he would leave again on some other mission to save the world. He frowned. After a moment, he moved off of her without another word. She rolled onto her side when he'd gotten off the bed, closing her eyes firmly. She didn't open them again until she knew he'd left the room. It was amazing, she thought glumly, how protective a person's mind could be, dulling pain, hiding the truth, refusing to see things that were too awful to see. Only that morning she had been assuring herself that she was coming out of this unscathed. She'd had a narrow miss, but she wasn't going to be hurt, because she'd just scratched her itch like Dax had. And there was no danger, really, of becoming emotionally wrapped up in him, because she would be home within a matter of days and it just wasn't possible to fall for anybody that quickly. It was though, because she'd just hit the ground after the long fall. She was pretty sure he'd sliced her right down to the quick the day he'd pulverized the men trying to rape her and told her he'd come to rescue her from that nightmarish place. She was hurting already and she hadn't had to say goodbye yet. ****

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Surprise flickered through Nigel when he looked up and saw Dax striding toward him. Knowing the vids were on both of them, though, he tamped the sensation of finding himself off kilter and merely jerked his head in invitation as if he'd been waiting for him. "How've you been?" Dax said, smiling in a friendly way and extending his hand. Again a flicker of something not quite right went through Nigel. He returned the smile and the handshake mechanically, deciding finally that Dax was putting on an act for the vids. "I didn't expect you. How's Lena?" Something flickered in Dax's eyes. He hadn't expected the question, Nigel realized, and for a moment he thought he'd really screwed up. He was not good at this cloak and dagger shit! "Never mind. Tell me later." Dax shrugged when he'd settled in the chair across the table from Nigel. "She's taken care of." Nigel frowned into his coffee mug as the server bot rolled over. By the time Dax had ordered a full breakfast and the bot had left again, Nigel had himself well under control. "I guess it'll be me and you, then?" "Yeah." Nigel chewed his lower lip, glancing around at the other patrons at the sidewalk café. Finally, he picked his cup up, drained the last of the coffee and stood up. "Seven, at the rear service door." "We need to meet at the base."

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Nigel looked at Dax in surprise. After a moment, his expression cleared. "Afterwards, you mean? I thought that was the plan?" Dax nodded. "That's what I meant." A cold sweat had begun to form on Nigel's brow before he reached the entrance to Quasar Corp. The meeting he'd just had wasn't just unexpected. It had been downright strange. His instincts were screaming at him to turn around and head in the other direction as fast as he could go without drawing attention to himself, but like a bot, he kept moving, going through the motions of his daily startup. He relaxed fractionally when he made it through the security check without incident. Maybe he was just imagining things? It was halfway through the morning when everything that had been tumbling around in Nigel's mind since the morning meeting abruptly clicked together into a solid picture. The man in the café hadn't been Dax. They were on to them. Cold fear washed through him again, tying his guts in knots. It took all he could do to focus on the procedure he was trying to perform, but it helped that he had been on the job so long that most of what he did was more by rote than thought. When his heart settled into a more normal rhythm and the panic receded, he began trying to think exactly what his situation was and what would be the safest move to make. That part wasn't any easier than gaining control of his initial fear. Dax had been cloned. 205

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Cloned and replaced? Before or after he'd gotten Lena, Nigel wondered? Was she safe? Was she dead? He focused on those questions for a while, trying to decide what meeting up with Dax's clone must mean besides the fact that he was fucked. They had to think there was no chance that anyone could meet up with Dax and his clone, so Dax was either out of the picture all together, or they knew, or thought they knew, that he was a long way from the city. Or this whole business was making them sloppy? When the time for his lunch break rolled around Nigel still had no idea of what do to, so he did what he usually did. He left his lab and headed down to the company lunch room, expecting any moment to be confronted by security and escorted out of sight so that they could make him disappear permanently. Instead, he arrived without incident. He was feeling vaguely ill with nerves, though, and it took a concentrated effort to behave as if nothing was any different from any other day. He decided after lunch, when he was on the way back to his lab, that he must have carried it off. He couldn't remember anybody looking at him strangely, or commenting that his behavior seemed off. His case of acute paranoia didn't wane though. He rarely took his afternoon break. Today, he deviated from the norm, because it had finally dawned on him that it wasn't just paranoia. He really was in deep shit, and he had to let the people at base camp know it. 206

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He couldn't send the signal from inside Quasar Corp. Leaving the building, he crossed to the café and ordered a coffee to go. While he waited, he moved to the edge of the café, propped against one of the pillars that supported the overhead canopy and flipped his watch face back. Tapping the code in, he hung up, tapped in again, waited for a count of ten, and then repeated the code the third time. Captured—Evacuate. There was no response to that code—none designated as far as he knew—and he had no clue whether they'd gotten it or not, or if he'd even remembered the code correctly. Hell, he didn't even know if they would pay it any attention coming from him. He'd done what he could to warn them though. **** The clone was waiting for him when Nigel opened the rear service door. Nigel had had all day to come to terms with his situation, however. He'd walked into a trap. He wasn't certain of exactly how they planned to spring it, but he had a fair notion that what they wanted was for him to lead the clone back to home base. Obviously, they'd tried everything else they could think of to discover its location and they'd decided to use the breach in their security to get what they wanted, or finally figured out a way to use it to their advantage. That meant he was going to be alive at least long enough to lead the clone to the base. He still hadn't decided whether or not the clone's appearance meant that Dax and Lena were dead, but he 207

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couldn't see that he had a lot of options at this point. He was going to do his best to see the thing through and hope that he lived long enough to avenge them if the bastards had gotten to them. Neither man spoke as they moved quickly through the service area of the building and finally reached the main entrance level. They took the tube from there, passing twenty levels of labs and halting at last on the lowest floor of the administration offices. The informant had been an accountant. Mentally, Nigel shook his head at the thought. Who would ever have thought it would be an accountant—more of a bookkeeper actually because the man hadn't even been upper rung—that would save the world? The door to the general office was locked. Nigel glanced at the clone. "You don't have the key code?" "I've forgotten it," Nigel lied. "I'm a med tech. I'm not used to this cloak and dagger shit." The pseudo Dax's lips thinned irritably, but he stepped forward and, without hesitation, keyed the code in. Nigel swallowed a little convulsively. The clone had definitely been in touch with them if he had the code. The question was, had he been ordered to help? Or hinder? He didn't bother to look up at the vid trained on the door. He knew it wasn't disabled, as it was supposed to have been. The minute they were inside, the clone led the way through the rabbit warren of cubicles, heading unerringly 208

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toward the cubicle that had once belonged to Gerald Smith and now belonged to his clone. Nigel began to go through the desk immediately, searching every article he came across for a crack or crevice the man might have used to hide the film. He was only half way down the first wall when the clone straightened abruptly. "I think I've found it." Nigel whirled in surprise, extending his hand for the film. "Let me see it." The clone hesitated for a fraction of a second and then handed it over. It was a memo, Nigel saw, frowning. A memo? I'll need a replacement part for Mr. S. Mullins. Nigel read the memo three times before it dawned on him that S. Mullins must be the name of someone they wanted replaced. Still more confused than enlightened, he glanced at the date, and then the origin of the memo. Coldness washed over him abruptly as the date and name clicked together. The date was the day after Stephen Mullins was inaugurated as Prez. And the origin of the memo was the head of a government agency. He handed the memo back to the clone. "You might be right," he said. "But it doesn't make any sense to me. This looks like something that just got misdirected. Maybe we should keep looking?" The clone looked like he wanted to argue. After a moment, though, he merely shrugged, tucked the film into his pocket 209

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and made a pretense of searching. "We need to make this quick, though. Security's liable to notice the vids are down any time." Nigel's mind was working at light speed while he finished the fruitless search. Unfortunately, his mental calisthenics were equally fruitless. He had no weapon, and he wasn't likely to find one between the accounting office and the exit. Reminding himself that he'd already decided the trap wouldn't be sprung until he'd shown the clone the way to home base, and hoping he was right, Nigel focused on trying to figure out some way of leaving the information for someone ... just in case he didn't make it. They finally reached the point Nigel had been dreading. "Either that's it, or it isn't here." The clone nodded. "We'll get this back to home base and let them study it. Maybe they'll be able to crack it. It's e-ink. Maybe it isn't the message that appears on it now, but the one that was on it before?" Nigel tried to look excited about the suggestion. "I hadn't thought about that." When they'd exited Quasar Corp, he made his gambit. "See you back at base." The clone checked. "I don't see any reason to split up. We're out. They aren't on to us. Anyway, I thought you were in a hurry to see Lena. I left her at the base." He should've known it wasn't going to be that easy. It didn't take a lot of thought to figure out if he made a break for it he'd be dead before he'd gone three feet. He had information the gov had already killed a half a dozen people 210

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to keep quiet. There was no way they would've planted it there for him to find unless they'd been ready to make sure he wasn't going to live to pass it along. It occurred to him as he merely shrugged and headed toward the people mover that the whole message might be bogus, but he decided after a few moments' thought that he could be reasonably certain it was. They would've known that it had to be something good or he wouldn't believe it was the evidence they were looking for. And if he wasn't convinced, then he wouldn't lead them back to the base. He wouldn't have risked it himself, but it occurred to him that the mastermind behind this nightmare had become increasingly desperate to locate the rebel base. The rebels must be getting close anyway, because he was starting to get really sloppy. He didn't even know Dax all that well and he'd sensed almost immediately that the dupe wasn't Dax. Lena had figured out right away that Morris was a dupe, too. Of course neither man would've been easy to replicate. They'd both been like ghosts. He met up with another moment of truth when they reached the entrance to the tube station. Take the clone on a wild goose chase and hope something would come to him? Or head directly for base and hope they had gotten the message he'd sent earlier and were waiting? It wasn't much of a contest. He didn't want to risk dying with the information he had without making a hell of push to get in the right hands. **** 211

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Dax was sitting at his desk, his legs crossed on the top of it and a glass in his hand when Lena came out of the bath. She tilted her head, studying him for a moment to gauge his mood. His gaze flickered over her slowly and then returned to the liquid he was idly swirling in his glass. After a moment, instead of pulling on her suit, she moved to the bed and got in, pulling the sheet up and tucking it beneath her arms. "What is it?" Dax's gaze flickered to her. He shrugged, downing the last of the liquid in the glass. "I've been playing with the puzzle." Her brows rose. "The puzzle?" she echoed curiously. "We've been compiling data for years. With no leads and hundreds of possible suspects, it's no wonder we've barely scratched the surface. I decided to go back over it again after the conversation we had the other day." Lena frowned, casting around in her mind in search of what conversation he might be referring to. "What you said about the gov, and the fact that whoever was behind this would have to be someone in power who didn't have to worry about losing it through an election." "Oh!" She shrugged. "I'm a historian. Mostly we don't always find specific facts, especially not since the storms when so much was destroyed. We have to figure out things by the process of eliminating the most unlikely." His lips curled faintly in a smile. "And sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees." 212

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Lena's brows lifted. "Meaning, things go out of focus when you get too close?" "Exactly. So, assuming the culprit really is somebody in the gov, and not some high powered corp head, eliminating the people we've already checked out, and all of the people that have to worry about getting re-elected every four years—the list is a lot shorter. In fact, really short, but I'm not sure any of these possibilities even make sense." Lena hesitated, but finally decided if he didn't trust her nothing she could say was going to make him trust her less. "Can I look?" As if he'd only been waiting for her to ask, he dragged his legs off of the desk, picked up a sheet of film and moved to the bed. Sprawling beside her, he handed her the list. Lena read through the names slowly, pausing to dredge up what she knew about each of the men and women on the list. When she'd gotten to the bottom, she went over it again. "This woman is too young. She was only appointed to that position maybe five or six years ago. This man, too. He's been around maybe twice that long, but the conspiracy predates his arrival on the scene." Dax looked her over appreciatively. After a moment, he got up, moved to his desk to collect a laser pen and returned, deleting the names from the list. "She's too old," Lena said after a moment. "She's been around a while, though." "Yes, but she's too old. She must be nearly eighty. She couldn't hope to hold the position much longer no matter how many people she replaced. Besides, neither money nor power 213

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means a lot to people that know they're facing the end of their life. She's looking forward to retiring and spending her last years with her grandchildren, or great-grandchildren, not controlling the world." After working over the list for several hours, they had cut it down by almost half. Lena frowned at the names that remained. "My money would be on him, if I was just guessing," she said finally, tapping her fingernail on the lettering. Dax looked at the name and chuckled. "Any particular reason why? Other than the fact that everybody hates them?" Lena smiled reluctantly. "You're probably right. I was just thinking, though, that I don't know a thing about him. I didn't even know his name and I keep up with the people in charge of the government." Dax took the list from her hands and dropped it to the floor beside the bed. "I'll make a note of that," he murmured, leaning forward to brush his lips across hers. "Baby girl doesn't know the guy so she doesn't trust him." She pulled away and he leaned back, eyeing her warily. Reaching for his suit, she grasped the front and tugged it open. "I want to feel all of you," she whispered, placing a light kiss in the center of his chest.

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Chapter Twelve The certainty that something was bothering Dax grew upon Lena as they lay curled together in the aftermath of their lovemaking. She supposed it might be that he had gone back to worrying over the puzzle, probably was that, at least in part, but she sensed that there was something else. She had a feeling she knew what that something else was. "When do you think we'll reach home base?" she asked him finally, idly playing with the hair on his chest. He tensed. "Six hours ... more or less." Pain squeezed Lena's chest as if a hand had fisted around her heart. Six hours. It had been a hell of a whirlwind romance—not that it was actually a romance. They'd been together a grand total of two weeks, just long enough to make her feel like dying at the thought that he was going to walk out of her life just as abruptly as he'd walked into it. When she'd finally gained control of her wayward emotions, she turned in his arms, tracing a trail of kisses along his hard chest to his chin. If she wasn't going to see him anymore, she was going to make the most of the time left. He tucked his chin, aligning his mouth with hers. After kissing her almost lazily for several moments, he shifted, pushing her to her back and moving over her. **** "Captain Morris!" 215

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Dax disentangled himself from Lena and strode to the com unit. "Yes." "We're on final approach, sir." "I'll be up in a few minutes." He saw when he turned to look for his uniform that Lena had sat up in bed. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen, her eyes heavy from lack of sleep. He felt like a complete ass for keeping her up all night, but he'd felt a desperation to make love to her over and over, as if doing so was going to make it any easier. Scrubbing his hand over his jaw, he discovered he needed a shave—which probably accounted for the redness all over Lena's neck and chest. Moving to the lav, he shaved quickly. "Would you like to come up with me?" Lena looked at him hopefully and he felt his gut clench. He forced a smile. "Nigel will probably be watching for our arrival." Nodding, she climbed from the bed and moved to the lav as he moved away and grabbed a uniform to put on. He saw when he glanced up from pulling his boots on that she'd pulled her borrowed suit on and was trying to get her feet into the boots. Crossing the room, he tapped her chin to make her lift her head and aligned the front edges of her suit, smoothing the seal. When she'd combed the tangles from her hair, he took the comb and raked it through his, irritated when he realized it was halfway down his shoulders and wondering if had been that long since he'd remembered to get it cut or if it was just growing faster than he remembered. 216

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Rodriguez glanced at him questioningly when he saw Lena was in tow. Dax glanced at the forward viewing screen. As he did, it went black. "Still no contact?" he asked, pointing Lena toward a vacant seat before he sprawled in his own. "We got a blip right after I called you, captain." Dax frowned. "Return hail?" "No sir." Dax glanced at Lena and then looked at Rodriguez again. "I'm not in the mood for guessing. What was it?" Rodriguez flushed. "Don't know, sir. S. That's all." Dax stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. Abruptly, his eyes widened and he whirled to look at the blank screen. "Screen on!" A flash of light filled the room. A few seconds later the ship began to shudder. "My god! We've been hit!" Rodriguez exclaimed staring at the screen in disbelief. "The base is gone!" Pushing himself from his seat, Dax moved to stand closer to the screen, scanning the scene of destruction. "There!" he growled, pointing to a spec in the distance. "Bogey at ten o'clock. Take that son-of-a-bitch out!" "There's another one—at three." Turning, Dax stared at Lena for a moment and finally strode towards her. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her out of the seat she'd only taken moments before. "Go back to my cabin, now!" Lena stared at him fearfully. "Why?"

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"Because it's safer, closer to the pods. If the evacuation alarm sounds, don't hesitate. Go straight down to second level and get into one of the pods." He must have seen her reluctance to leave in her expression. His face hardened. "I need to be here. You don't." "Captain!" Lena nodded even as he turned away, not because she wanted to go, but because she felt much safer near Dax, even if he thought she'd be safer in the cabin. She didn't want to distract him, though, not when he needed to focus his entire attention on the ships attacking the base. The trip down the tube was scary as hell. The ship shuddered, bucked, began to weave and sway, nearly throwing her off the ladder several times. She was shaking like a leaf by the time she reached the level for the crew quarters. The ship had begun to shift so violently and abruptly from side to side, she felt like a drunk trying to make her way down the corridor, stumbling into first one wall and then the other. Relieved when she reached the cabin at last, she looked around for the safest spot and finally moved to the desk chair. Swiveling it into its upright position, she locked it down and looked around for a safety harness. Dax had loosened them, she discovered, and flung them out of his way for comfort. The jolting and jouncing grew progressively worse until she had to clench her teeth together to keep from biting her tongue. She realized after a few moments that she could hear air screaming around the ship, explosions in the distance, and then several close enough that the whole ship quaked. 218

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Dizziness assailed her as the ship tilted sharply to one side and then abruptly rolled. She let out a squeak of fright, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut. Something either slammed into the ship, or exploded so close by the effect was nearly the same. The noise was nearly deafening. The ship did an abrupt freefall that almost made Lena lose what was in her stomach. The lights went out. Blue and yellow lights flickered on a few seconds later and alarms all over the ship began screaming deafeningly. The freefall ended so suddenly that she thought for several moments that the ship had slammed into the earth. She was clawing at the restraints to escape when it dawned on her that there'd been no evacuation alarm. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she listened to see if she could hear running feet, shouting, anything that might tell her if the ship was going down. It was still airborne. She knew that from the bouncing jolts that kept rattling her bones. The alarms were shut off after a few moments and the lights came back on. Hardly daring to breathe, Lena tensed for another hard jolt that never came. The ship seemed to glide smoothly for several moments and then she heard more sounds that she didn't recognize that totally terrified her, whirrs and clicks and moving metal. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Dax's voice abruptly bellowed from the com unit. "All hands, suit up!" Was that the evacuation order? 219

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He hadn't said evacuate, and besides, that sort of announcement was usually made by a voice from the computer. Hearing a bustle of activity, she unfastened the restraints and rushed to the door. As it opened, she saw men and women piling out of the crew quarters, fully armed and armored and racing toward the tube. After staring at them for several moments, she finally realized that Dax was launching a ground assault—or expecting one. **** It wasn't as difficult to find the off loading level as it might have been. Lena merely waited until the soldiers had moved out and followed them. Dax was in the hold. Since she was fairly certain he wouldn't be at all pleased to find her down in the hold with the troops, she moved to the back. "I don't expect any ground force, but look alive out there. And keep a sharp eye out for any survivors." Any? Did that mean he wasn't expecting to find any? Nigel might be out there, she thought in sudden fear. Dax had said he might be! The moment the hatch opened, even before the gang plank was extended, the troops began pouring out the side of the ship. Lena followed them, determined to search for Nigel if there was any possibility that he might have been in the base when it was hit. 220

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She'd managed to make it half way down the gang plank when Dax spotted her. He caught her around the waist as she leapt from the side to run. "Get back on the damned ship!" "I've got to look for Nigel! He might be hurt!" "We'll look for Nigel. We're looking for any survivors." Lena looked up at him in horror. "Any?" His lips tightened. "Just go back inside and wait. If he's here, I'll find him." She was tempted to try to escape him and go anyway, but it occurred to her that as long as she held him up, he wasn't looking and if Nigel was hurt minutes counted. Finally, she nodded. He caught her cheeks in one hand. "Promise me you'll stay put!" She looked away. "All right!" When he released her, she trudged back up the gang plank, glancing around at the rubble and wondering if there was any possibility that they were going to find any survivors at all. He didn't trust her to keep her word and stay. As she reached the airlock, he whistled, making a hand motion when one of the men turned to look at him. The soldier glanced at her and nodded. Turning, he trotted back to the ship and up the gang plank behind her. He caught her arm when he reached the top. "He didn't say I couldn't stay here and watch!" she snapped, trying to wrest her arm loose. He let her go. "Stay back from the door." 221

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"I'm just looking!" "You're liable to catch one between the eyes if you stand there," the guard snapped back at her. Glaring at the man, she moved behind the edge of the door and peered out, searching the rubble with her gaze for any sign of someone that might be trapped beneath it. It was a waste of time, or more accurately, only something to do to keep her from feeling so helpless and useless. The soldiers were making a sweep. If there'd been anyone nearby, they would already have found them. Time seemed to drag by, but her anxiety only sharpened the longer she waited to hear if Nigel was among those who'd been here when the feds had attacked. The soldier who'd been sent back to watch her began to fidget. She tried to ignore him, but his restlessness began to grate on her nerves. "I've got to take a leak," he announced. Lena turned to stare at him with a mixture of embarrassment and outrage. Like she wanted to know that, she thought indignantly! "Stay put." Lena blinked. Finally, she nodded. Apparently her hesitation was enough to alert him. Instead of dashing off to find the head, he glared at her, snatched the lower seam free and dragged the thing out right in front of her. Lena's eyes narrowed. Pursing her lips, she looked away. When she slid a glance at him again, she saw that he'd turned his back to her and was pissing off to one side of the gangplank. Without even stopping to consider the possible 222

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consequences, she burst into a run and slammed into his back with her palms. He yelped as he went out the door, but Lena didn't pause to see if he landed on his feet. The moment she gave him a shove, she whirled and raced down the gang plank, leaping off when she neared the end and dashing toward what was left of the building that had once been the rebel base camp. A shout behind her to stop alerted her to the fact that he was giving chase. Instead of stopping, she ran faster. She didn't dare look back to see if he was closing in on her, fearful that she'd trip, or that it would slow her down enough to help him catch her. The moment she managed to jump behind a wall that blocked her from his view, she began a frantic search for some place to hide. A section of one wall had cracked and folded over, leaving a narrow space at the floor. It looked impossibly small, but she figured if she could squeeze her ass into it, that would work in her favor. Making a scrambling dive for it as she heard a curse not far behind her, she managed to get the front half of her body in on her hands and knees, and then flattened out and slithered snake-like the rest of the way. She froze when she heard the scrape of a boot and the sound of scattering rumble nearby, holding her breath, hoping against hope that she'd crawled in far enough that her feet weren't sticking out the end. Her heart was pounding so frantically in her ears that many moments passed before she realized the sounds were 223

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moving away from her. When she'd caught her breath, she began to back slowly out of the narrow, tunnel like space. She eased up onto her hands and knees and looked around cautiously when she'd backed completely out. When she saw no sign of the guard, she got to her feet and looked round. There was no sign of anyone in any direction and she wondered if she was even in the building that had housed the secret base. There were broken walls, shattered windows, and bits and pieces of furniture everywhere, but no sign that anyone had been in this particular area. Climbing out of the hole that had been created by falling debris, she glanced around again. Far into the distance, she could see the troops spread out now in a line. They'd swept the area for the enemy first, she realized, and were moving back slowly now in search of survivors. There was one soldier between the line of soldiers and the building where she stood, jogging quickly away from her. No doubt to report that she'd escaped him. Dismissing them, she began to pick her way carefully through the rubble, pausing to listen for any faint sound that might indicate anyone was buried beneath the broken bits of mortar and stone. "Nigel? It's me, Lena!" she called softly. She kept calling as she looked, softly at first and then, as she grew more focused on finding Nigel and less on being caught by Dax, louder. She saw no one, no one at all. Instead of feeling comforted by that, she grew more distressed, moving more quickly, shoving pieces of wallboard out of her way, flipping others 224

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over. She'd covered most of what seemed to have been the main part of the building and began to climb carefully down into what looked like it might have been a bunker, or possibly only a basement when she heard something. She stopped abruptly. "Nigel?" she called, her voice quavering on a note of fear as it occurred to her belatedly that it might not be Nigel at all. "Lena!" It was little more than a harsh whisper, but Lena whirled toward the sound. "Nigel?" she called again, feeling her heart began to hammer with hopefulness as she looked around. He emerged from a pile of rubble, so dusty with the powdered mortar that she didn't recognize him at once. He was holding a pistol, however, and it was leveled on her. "Say something so that I know it's really you!" "Oh, Nigel," she said in dismay. "Don't tell me you don't know me!" "What color were mother's eyes?" She was on the point of telling him she'd finally remembered when she realized that she had always told him she couldn't remember their mother. "I was just a baby when she died. You know I don't remember her!" He grinned, but even as she started toward him, the smile froze on his face. He swallowed. "Get out of the way, Lena!" Realizing his gaze was focused beyond her, Lena turned. Dax had frozen halfway down the pile of rubble she'd just climbed through. "Dax! I found Nigel!" 225

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"That's not Dax," Nigel said harshly. "It's a fucking clone." Lena's head whipped around, her eyes widening. "It's not. I came here with him!" His lips tightened. "Then who's that?" When Lena turned to look again, she saw that another Dax was standing at the edge of the pit, looking down. "Oh my god!" she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. "Come to me, Lena. You're in the line of fire," Nigel ground out. Reluctantly, she took a step toward him, wondering how she was going to prevent him from shooting Dax if she moved out of the way. "Don't!" Startled at Dax's voice, Lena turned to see which man had spoken. "He's a clone," the Dax standing nearest her said. "Just get out of the way, Lena!" the other Dax said sharply. Uncertain now of whom to trust, she stood perfectly still, glancing from one man to the other. Striving for calm, she examined each of the Dax's, but she couldn't tell any difference even in their clothing, for both were wearing similar uniforms and she couldn't recall enough detail about the one she'd last seen Dax in to know which was which. She knew Nigel though. Did that mean the one who'd warned her against him was the clone? Or was it Dax, trying to protect her in case he was a clone? Her chin wobbled. "I don't know what to do," she murmured, unwilling to move in any direction until she was 226

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certain she wouldn't get Dax killed. She closed her eyes. "Dax! I love you!" "I love you, too, Lena." Lena's eyes popped open. She stared at the man who'd just spoken as he took a step toward her. "Move your ass, baby girl!" Dax snarled. Whirling abruptly, Lena fled toward the man standing atop the wall. The moment she moved, all three men began to fire. "Get down!" Dax bellowed as he leapt from the top of the wall and landed just in front of her. Lena dove for the floor, closing her eyes as she saw the broken, uneven bits of stone rushing up to greet her. Something hot sliced across her arm even as she fell, seemingly in slow motion, toward the rubble strewn floor. Her arm gave way as she tried to catch herself with her palms. Pain seemed to pelt her from every direction at once, her shoulder, her knees and palms. The worst of it, however, was pain that exploded in her head as she skidded across the floor and slammed into something sharp and hard. Blackness crowded in around her. Someone grabbed her shoulder and rolled her over. She heard her name in stereo and opened her eyes with an effort. Two faces were leaning over her. "I bumped my head," she murmured, lifting a hand to examine the throbbing area and finding a knot on her forehead. "I feel like beating your ass," Dax growled. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the ship?" "Try it and I'll knock your head off," Nigel snarled at him. 227

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"Shut up, Nigel!" Lena murmured, pushing herself upright. "He's trying to tell me he loves me." Both men gaped at her, but Dax recovered first, pulling her to her feet and examining her head and then her arm. "It doesn't look too bad," he said finally. "Exactly what is 'bad' in your opinion?" Nigel demanded. Still wobbly legged, Lena managed to wedge herself between her brother and Dax. "Actually, I really don't feel at all well." She'd barely uttered the last word when Dax scooped her into his arms and turned to survey the climb. "You can't carry me and climb up that!" Lena protested. Apparently Dax agreed. Placing two fingers against his lower lip, he let out an earsplitting whistle that, within a very few minutes, had drawn a pack of soldiers to ring the top of the pit, staring down at them. "Get me a sling to bring her up!" She didn't especially like the sound of that, but she knew Dax could carry her up and she still felt a little dizzy and disoriented. "Did you kill the clone?" she asked, dropping her head against his shoulder. "Nigel did." Lena looked at her brother in surprise. "How did you know which one was the clone?" "It wasn't that difficult, actually," Nigel said dryly. "I knew the moment Dax started bellowing which was the real asshole."

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Chapter Thirteen Lena's head hurt, but it wasn't entirely from the knot she'd given herself when she dove to try to avoid the laser fire. Dax and Nigel bristled like two cur dogs every time they looked at each other. She had a pretty good feeling she knew why. Nigel sensed that Dax had done a lot more than just rescue her, and Dax didn't appreciate Nigel's possessiveness toward his sister. "Did you find anyone?" she asked, joining the two men at the table they'd taken in the rec room of Dax's ship. Dax shook his head. "Most of the personnel evacked before the attack." Lena glanced from Dax to Nigel questioningly. Nigel shrugged. "I went in to retrieve the data, but I knew the minute I set eyes on Dax's clone that something wasn't right. After a while, I realized I'd walked into a trap, but they weren't after me and they weren't after the data. They wanted me to lead them back to the base. That's what they really wanted. As soon as I realized that, I used the code I'd been given to warn them." "What data?" "The memo that everyone's been dying over," Dax responded, tossing a roll of film onto the table. Grabbing it up, Lena looked the e-paper over thoroughly and finally read the message. "My god! This is an order to replace the Prez!" 229

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Nigel and Dax exchanged a look. "We should've just gotten Lena to figure it out for us before." Lena looked at both of them with a touch of indignation. "All right. What do you think it means?" Nigel gave her a sour look. "Exactly what you think it means." Mollified, she went back to studying the memo. "You think this is authentic? I mean, why would they let us get the real thing?" "Because it isn't the big boss behind this operation," Dax said. "It's one of his recruits." Lena frowned. "Morris?" Dax's lips thinned. "The informant worked for Quasar Corp. I don't know how he managed to find his way to Morris, but he'd run across something that scared the hell out of him. Fortunately, as scared as he was, his conscience just wouldn't allow him to destroy it and forget it, so he started asking some really dangerous questions. When he learned about Morris' ties to the rebel army, he went to see him. He didn't particularly trust Morris either, though, and he didn't take the memo with him when he went, wouldn't even tell Morris what it was all about—only that it was something that was tied to the rumors about clones. "That's why Morris was so upset when he found out you'd been to Quasar Corp, because the minute the guy contacted him, Morris contacted me to nose around and see what I could find out about the informant. And it didn't take long to find out where he worked." Lena frowned. "You mean the guy was in on it?" 230

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Nigel shook his head. "I don't think so. He was just a bookkeeper. I think the memo got mixed in with some of the work he was sent to pick up. An accident that ended up costing him his life—but it probably would've when they discovered the memo was missing and tracked it back to him whether he'd done anything or not." "Why didn't they just retrieve it then?" "Because the guy had led them to Morris, and it didn't take them long to connect the dots between Morris and the leader of the rebels—Dax." Lena sent Dax a startled glance. "Claxton, the head of Quasar Corp, probably decided that it would look a lot better to go to the big boss with the information that he'd tracked down the headquarters of the rebels and destroyed it instead of having to tell him that he'd gotten sloppy and let dangerous information out." "That still doesn't mean that this memo is the one the guy found." "No. There is a way to be sure though," Dax said. Lena and Nigel both turned to stare at him. "How?" "We have a pretty good idea of which gov officials have been replaced. If we can connect any of the known clones with Quasar Corp and the big boss, then we can be pretty damned sure we're on the right track. You said yourself that Cameron Mitchell was probably our guy. And he sure as hell fits the profile. He doesn't owe his office to elections. His branch of the gov is more secretive than the CIA, and as heavily protected as the national treasury. From where I'm sitting it seems to me that he has more power and more 231

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money at his disposal than anyone else in the gov ... probably in the world." "Yes, but ... I was just guessing. I don't know anything for sure. We couldn't just kill the man because we think he might be the one. And he doesn't control the money. He has nothing to do with where it goes after it's collected." "Unless he's replaced everybody that might call him to account. And the memo certainly seems to indicate that." Nigel stroked his chin thoughtfully. "We'll have to move fast. The big boss is bound to hear about all of this before much longer." "As far as Claxton knows, he wiped out the rebel base— and the leak. He knows by now that the ships he sent to attack the base were destroyed, but he doesn't know, yet, that the base had been evacuated before hand. That'll buy us some time to hack into the security system at base beta and see what we can see about the head of the IRS." **** Lena glanced at her watch as she settled in the chair across from the receptionist. There were two applicants in front of her and she couldn't help but worry that he'd decide on one of them and terminate the interviews, or decide to wait until after lunch to finish up with interviews. After sitting for a few minutes, she got up and asked the receptionist where the ladies room was. The woman gestured with her pen toward a door down the corridor. "If he calls you and you aren't here you probably won't get another chance for an interview." 232

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Lena didn't try to hide her dismay. "It won't take me but a few minutes, but I get nervous about interviews." The woman shrugged. Moving quickly down the corridor, Lena ducked into the ladies room. After a quick check to make sure all of the stalls were empty, she moved to the waste receptacle, pulled the liner out and bent down to retrieve the pistol at the bottom. Shoving it into the purse she carried slung over her shoulder, she replaced the bag and headed out again. The reception area was empty of other applicants when Lena returned. "Has he called me yet?" The woman shook her head. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lena returned to the seat she'd claimed before. Outwardly, she felt sure she didn't display any more jitters than might be expected of someone about to do an interview. Inwardly, she felt sick to her stomach with nerves. I can do this, she told herself for the hundredth time. "Ms. Brinson?" Lena jumped when it suddenly dawned on her that the receptionist was speaking to her. "You can go in now." Lena's heart seemed to leap right out of her chest and into her throat. Nodding a little jerkily, she straightened her skirt and headed toward the door the woman had indicated. Another woman came out as she reached it. Catching the door before it closed, Lena went in and stood nervously near the door.

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The man behind the desk didn't look like a monster, but then that was the trouble with monsters. They so rarely looked like what they actually were. "Have a seat," he said pleasantly. Lena sat, more because her knees felt as weak as water than because she wanted to. Lifting a film from his desk, the man settled to studying her resume as if he had never seen it before. Lena focused on trying to breathe easy and steady her nerves. He'd just dropped the film to his desk and turned to speak to her when the alarm Lena had been waiting for went off. Attention! Attention! This is not a drill. This is not a drill. There is a bomb in the building. Please proceed to the nearest exit and leave the building in an orderly fashion as quickly as possible. A breathless hush seemed to fall over the entire building. Lena counted to three and reached into her purse as she rose from her chair. Almost at the same instant, bedlam cut loose beyond the walls of Cameron Mitchell's office. The sound of stampeding feet rose to a deafening roar. Lena leveled the pistol at Mitchell as he surged out of his chair. He stared at it blankly. "For crimes against humanity," Lena said coldly, pointing the pistol directly at the man's chest and pulling the trigger. The blast caught him directly in the heart, stopping it instantly. His mouth gaped. He clasped his hands to his chest 234

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and fell back into his chair, staring at Lena as his eyes slowly glazed. Feeling ill and faint, Lena stepped up to the desk and looked at him. "That was for everybody you've murdered you cold blooded bastard!" Taking aim at his head, she issued the coupe de grace. "And that was for Morris!" she added, controlling the wobble in her chin with an effort. She'd scarcely fired the second shot when the window behind Mitchell's desk exploded inward, showering the room with glass. Instinctively, Lena threw her hands up to protect herself. When she peered between her fingers, she saw Dax standing over Mitchell, checking for a pulse. When he turned to look at her, his lips curled into a slow grin. "You are the most amazing woman, Lena Marie," he murmured, holding his arm out to her. Relieved beyond measure to see him, Lena hurried to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Hold tight, baby girl," he murmured as he tightened his arms around her and moved back toward the window he'd entered. Lena closed her eyes as the pulley yanked both of them through the window, gasping to catch her breath as they swung back and forth forty stories above the ground. By the time they were finally hauled through the airlock, Lena was quaking like a leaf, half frozen from the 'ride'. Unhooking his harness from the pulley as soon as they were on the ship, Dax strode to the com unit. "We're in. Kick it in the ass before they figure out we aren't a rescue unit!" 235

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Apparently the pilot took the order to heart. The ship's rockets fired and the ship shot forward so fast Lena and Dax both nearly ended up in the floor. When he'd steadied the two of them, he hit the com unit again. "Rodriguez, you smart ass!" Uttering something midway between a cough and a chuckle, Rodriquez responded innocently, "Yes, sir, captain sir!" "When you hit the ten mile marker, lay down fire." Slipping his arm around her waist, Dax walked Lena across the hanger deck and then guided her up the tube to the bridge. Rodriguez threw a grin over his shoulder as they reached the deck. "Top to bottom? Or bottom to top?" "Top to bottom," Dax responded promptly. "You heard the man," Rodriguez said into his headset. "Take it down." As they watched the vid screen, two missiles shot from somewhere beneath their view and straight toward the building they'd just left. Another pair followed closely behind the first two, and then a half a dozen more, spaced as the first were. The first two impacted with the top of the building, demolishing it instantly. The crowd below the building scattered for cover. The second two hit three floors below, blasting debris in every direction and the top settled. "We've got company," Rodriguez announced as the third and fourth pair impacted with the building. "Then it's time to go," Dax said. "They sub orbital. Take us out beyond their range." He glanced down at Lena. "Are you all right?" 236

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She couldn't help but smile. "Yes." Catching her hand, he led her back to the tube. "I think you should let Mel have a look at you." She thought it over. "No, really, I'm all right." He frowned, but he didn't press her any further. Without another word, he started down the tube. Lena watched him a moment and climbed after him. He stepped off when he reached the crew level, slipping an arm around her waist and walking with her to his cabin. "Is it over?" Lena wondered out loud, amazed that in the end, it had been so easy. Dax glanced at her. "I doubt we're completely out of the woods yet. We'll have to track down his network and shut it down." When they'd reached his cabin, Lena moved into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist. He stroked her back soothingly. "Are you sure you're all right?" "Mmmhmm." "I shouldn't have let you talk me in to letting you go in there." She pulled away to look up at him. "I needed to go. Besides, you wouldn't have gotten past the front door." He shrugged, but didn't argue the point. Instead he pulled her close again. "We could've found an assassin—a trained assassin." "I really am going to be ok with this," Lena murmured. "I'm not nearly as delicate as you and Nigel seem to think." "Maybe not, baby girl, but killing is something a lot of people have a problem with, no matter the provocation." 237

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"Morris is dead because of that man. Hundreds, maybe thousands more than that. All I feel is relief that he can't do that to anybody else." His arms tightened around her. "I'm thinking about retiring," he said tentatively. Lena pulled away and looked up at his face. "Seriously?" "Very seriously." A smile curled her lips. "Where are we retiring to?" He stared at her for several moments and finally swallowed thickly. "You'd go with me?" "Where ever," she said promptly. He drew in a ragged breath. "I love you, Lena Marie." "I know." He chuckled. "Just I know?" "I already told you I loved you," she reminded him with a smile. "And you said, 'move your ass, baby girl!' That's when I knew you loved me, too." The End

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