Seduce Me in Dreams Read online

  Trick scoffed with obvious derision at the very idea.

  “But,” Bronse said quietly, “our chief did catch something else of interest.”

  Trick turned the CompuVid screen toward Lasher. With a few light touches on the control pad, classified information from internal documents started to fly across the screen. Lasher read them quickly, trying to grasp what he was seeing and why it should be of interest. Suddenly a map in 3D with topographical color delineations exploded onto the screen, turning and pivoting on a central axis point that began to fill with names, dates, and what was clearly troop movement and military information in great detail.

  “That’s the Grinpar Desert. This is the data we just retrieved. North camp … northwest camp …” Lasher pointed to the camps as they rotated past him on the screen. “So what’s—?”

  Bronse almost smiled when Lasher broke off and frowned darkly in his confusion. He loved how quick Masin could be. One man in a million would have noticed a discrepancy that small, in such a short amount of time, even with hints to look for it. Lasher was grim and silent as he finished reading the information that Bronse had told Trick to show him.

  “Why?” Lasher ground out suddenly, his anger backbuilding behind his pale jade eyes, the little black flecks floating in the sea of light color seeming more obvious in his outrage.

  “Excellent question. According to that information, recon and PhotoVids had already been done prior to our excursion. The IM already had all of the information they needed, so why send us back out there? Which now also casts a peculiar light on why they urged me so strongly to split up the team. Now for the topper.”

  Bronse nodded to Trick. The young officer pulled up a file that he had recovered from the admiral’s erased mail. The letter unfurled good as new on the screen, a testament to the chief’s awesome skills. All the protected information on the IM database had “shredder” programs implanted to prevent anyone from doing exactly what he had done after the information was discarded.

  A blank directive had been sent from IM headquarters to a receiving computer on Ebbany, divulging the coordinates of Bronse and Trick’s location. Attached to that was a command to terminate them.

  “That communiqué is stamped with Admiral JuJuren’s personal send-code. Only he knows the code, and only his terminal can accept it and send from it like this,” Trick informed Lasher quietly. “The rat-bastard sold out me and the commander. That was why that armed guard came up on us out of nowhere so suddenly. They didn’t expect either of us to make it out alive, and if it weren’t for Commander Chapel, we would have been bait for the sand hurricanes by now.”

  “They?” Lasher bit the word out. “So far I see evidence of only one traitor here.”

  “I know you aren’t that naïve. Even an admiral couldn’t justify sending the First Active ETF team on a recon that was already done. Someone had to bury the original intel and wipe the database of any information about the team that they’d sent out already. It also struck me that, with all the recon I’ve done for the IM, except for the major pooch-screw that happened, this was what I would’ve called—”

  “A candy-assed assignment?” Lasher finished for him. “It wasn’t an easy one, but I agree. It wasn’t worthy of the First Actives. There are secondary and tertiary teams in the ETF that could’ve done just as well as we did. Better, apparently, because they didn’t have bull’s-eyes painted on their naïve asses.”

  “Easy does it. Who can we trust if not our superiors?” Bronse said softly.

  “Commander, clearly we can’t trust them,” Lasher hissed, pointing to the evidence on the screen.

  “We can’t trust JuJuren or any of his immediate staff,” Bronse corrected. “Our advantage here, thanks to Trick, is that JuJuren has no idea we’re on to him. Laid up with nothing better to do, Trick can hack the old man right down to his undershorts and find out exactly how far this cancer has spread. Then we can think about how to proceed.”

  “What if we go active before we know the whole of it?” said Lasher. “Sir, we’re grunts. Bottom line. We aren’t intel officers. We have to go where the brass tells us to go, whether we like it or not. Whether we know it means certain death or not. Unless we bring this information to intel.”

  “Luckily we’re a man down, and I took us off duty. They won’t countermand my decision until Trick is operational. I say that gives us two weeks. I don’t want to wait that long, though. Trick, only the Great Being knows if you’ll get detected snooping around. I know …” Bronse held up a hand to fend off the indignant retort. “I know how good you are, kid, but there’s always somebody better. Besides that, I need you to hurry. There are lives at stake here, and I don’t want anyone’s death on my hands any more than I wanted yours. Copy?”

  “Copy, sir.”

  “Good. Keep low, keep cool, keep quiet,” Bronse warned, as he did at the start of all their missions. “Lasher and I will rally with Jus and Ender later and do some fact sharing. For now, sign off and get some rack time under you, kid. I need you healed up fast.”

  “Aye, sir,” Trick said with a cocky but eager attitude as he wiped away traces of his forays into the military database and shut down the system.

  Lasher and Bronse rose to their feet and together they exited the infirmary. They waited until they were in regular corridors before they began to talk. The hour was still quiet, so they could talk relatively freely, though in soft voices.

  “What’s your plan, Commander?”

  “To sleep with my knife and my laser gun.”

  “Mmm, I think I’ll do the same, even though they targeted you and Trick. My guess is they were targeting you, and Trick was just an unfortunate bystander.”

  “My guess says you’re right,” Bronse said grimly. “But why the elaborate setup? And why now? Why me? I don’t mean that in a whiny pity party way, either.”

  “Perish the thought,” Masin said with a chuckle.

  “My head is reeling with these questions. None of this adds up. I’m sure I’ve accumulated an enemy or two over the years, but to get an admiral to order an assassination attempt on me? I mean, do I look like I’m going to cause political trouble? I’ve followed orders since I was—”

  “Sperm,” Lasher interjected.

  “Just about,” Bronse agreed. “I thrive on taking orders and doing my job with little to no questions asked. What kind of threat am I to a man like that?”

  “Besides being able to break his neck in forty-two different ways?”

  “Besides that,” Bronse agreed dryly. He sounded exasperated, but in truth he appreciated Lasher’s lightening up of the grim circumstances. In the span of an hour, everything Bronse had believed in and planned on for himself had been thrown into play. His career and his life were both at risk, and he did not know why. That infuriated him almost as much as the impotent feeling that his strings were being pulled by some maniacal IM puppeteer.

  “Well, there’s always the big three.”

  “Money, power, and …?”

  “Sex.”

  “Of course,” Bronse said, chuckling. “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.”

  “I’m serious. People do damn strange things for sex. Some greatly evil, some greatly good. Same goes for the other two. They are man’s three most powerful motivators.”

  “Well, JuJuren has power.”

  “He could have more. There is always more. Top of the heap is … who? Prime Minister of the three worlds?”

  “Yeah. That’s definitely a good one. Or one of the overlords or emperors on the lower rung of Ebbany maybe. It’s the most likely to be corruptible, as you know. And it’s clear that he’s buying favors already. He wouldn’t send us there unless he was highly confident of his success and highly confident that he could manipulate what was happening in the territory.”

  “Okay. What about money?”

  “Ebbany is not a rich planet, and even in the developed cities living is hostile. Tari has all the Delran platinum mines. That’s whe
re the money lies.”

  “Okay, what about sex?”

  Sex. Bronse’s mind immediately swam to the encounter he’d had in his sleep with Ravenna. He almost laughed at how quickly his body remembered every detail of that dream.

  Suddenly he stopped walking.

  What if the dreams of Ravenna had something to do with this? She had warned him of danger. Danger to his life and the lives of his crew. She had been warning him, it seemed, for quite some time, but it was only recently that he was able to remember that. What was worse, he understood clearly that there was still a future danger out there, somewhere, most likely on-mission. She had behaved and sounded so urgent. He had the impression that this danger was far more imminent than the two weeks that Trick would need to get fully cleared for returning to duty. It would not be unusual for them to be sent out as a foursome. They had been operating without a communications officer like Trick on and off for a full year now.

  Bronse shook his head as if the movement could order his scattered thoughts. Why was he taking the portents of a dream so much to heart? Why did he believe in this warning so implicitly? He wasn’t even bothering to question it. He was even less inclined to question it now that he had learned of JuJuren’s betrayals. He cast a glance at Lasher, who was patiently awaiting his next thoughts. How much should he share with his second? What if Masin began to think he was losing his mind? Bronse couldn’t have his second doubting his sanity or his clarity of thought or purpose. It was his job to inspire confidence in all his junior officers, and that included Lasher.

  How could he even begin to explain what he himself did not clearly comprehend? If he believed this dream woman, then he would have to believe that she had an ability that was, quite frankly, inconceivable. A precognition of sorts, and a powerful one at that to be so detailed. But the military had researched and tested paranormal and psychic capabilities dozens of times and had found no foundation for them. If there had been even an ounce of reality to the idea of such abilities, the military would have been the first to exploit and incorporate them into the services.

  Then again, until an hour ago, Admiral JuJuren had been the least likely corruptible admiral in the IM services. Bronse would have to be infinitely more cautious in the way he thought about things.

  “We aren’t just grunts, you know,” he corrected Lasher belatedly. “We’re all highly intelligent and well diversified. We’re always given an objective and a plotting from point A to point B and then back again for extraction, but you tell me how often those best-laid plans have gone off without a hitch.”

  “Not too damn often,” Lasher agreed.

  “And we’d be dead a hundred times over if we weren’t quick on our feet and able to outthink our enemies while keeping an eye on the military horizon. There’s a reason why people respect us … and fear us.”

  “I know that, sir. I was just making the point that we’re still subject to orders and military restrictions.”

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t you just go to intel with this?” Lasher questioned Bronse further. “Why are you dropping it into Trick’s lap?”

  “Because I trust Trick. Normally, with him being the new guy, I wouldn’t say that so easily. I mean, we’re still feeling each other out and all. But Trick came to me with this and made me aware. He wouldn’t have done that if he was on JuJuren’s payroll.”

  “So that’s it? You’re afraid that intel has spies?”

  “Aren’t you? JuJuren’s powerful. Spy or no spy, someone he knows or someone who respects him sees his name come across a desk somewhere and they pick up the phone and tip him off. I don’t want that to happen. I want the kid to get some better proof than what he has now. A preponderance of information. This way we get a look at what JuJuren’s been doing before the bureaucrats fuck it all up.”

  Bronse was silent for another long minute, thinking dark and leading thoughts that he wasn’t going to share. Lasher wished he could just ask him to spill whatever he was holding back. However, Lasher had known Bronse long enough to realize that he would just piss him off if he pushed him before he was ready.

  “Lasher, I have a real sick feeling in my gut again,” Bronse informed him gravely.

  “I know, sir. I feel it too.”

  “I don’t want Justice and Ender going another minute without being on the update. I’ll take Ender. You go to Jus. Make sure everyone stays armed at all times, both day and night rotation, and that means backup and covert weapons too. Tell them to choose something nonstandard for at least one hidden weapon. I want everyone to have something up their sleeve that isn’t a well-known military trick. Copy?”

  “Aye, loud and clear. What say we round up at midday meal in your quarters? I’ll pay a visit to Trick right before then, so I’ll have updates to share with the crew if there are any to be had.”

  “Good idea. I want us acting as though we’re on-mission. Make it clear. But I also don’t want us raising any suspicion, so everyone needs to appear relaxed and off-mission.”

  “Got it.”

  “See you at midday.”

  “Yup!”

  Lasher jogged off and took the left corridor, heading in the direction of Justice’s quarters.

  When Bronse entered his quarters some time later, after his interesting informational encounter with Ender, the sound that came to his urgent attention was the steady beep that seemed to seek out his spine and wrack it with a foreboding chill. He knew the sound well. His eyes darted to the ComVid as he rapidly approached it. Sure enough, a redlined message was flashing in wait on the screen, its accompanying tone indicating that the First Active team had just been issued orders.

  Bronse felt as though someone had poured molten lead into his gut. Was this merely coincidental? Or had Trick’s stealthy skills been overestimated? He dreaded taking his team out on any operation without knowing if he or they would at least be safe from the resources that were supposed to be backing them up.

  Bronse cursed viciously under his breath as he punched up the orders. The swearing only intensified when he saw the operational locale.

  Ebbany.

  They were going back to that desert hell-acre with its strangely colored sands and enemies that were plotting with the upper echelon of the IM. Oddly enough, it gave him comfort to see that it was JuJuren who had signed the orders and approved the mission. It meant he didn’t have to wonder if the mission would get shot to shit. He didn’t have to worry about when the next attempt would be to murder him. He had the exact date and time flashing on the screen right before his eyes. By now, Lasher, Ender, and Justice had also become aware of their orders and all their implications, and no doubt they were furious and chomping at their bits with the need to act. They were soldiers, and that was what they did—act. But what could they really do?

  Bronse sighed and looked around his rooms thoughtfully. He reached for a metal bangle sitting on his night-stand and snapped it around his wrist. The handsome piece of jewelry was finely etched, the silvery metal glinting in the center so the design was highlighted, but burnished to a duller tone at the ends where they touched together in a pair of intricately woven knots. What was not so readily seen was a seam in the etching where the cuff would break easily into halves, exposing a good two feet of delicately barbed garrote wire strung between the halves. This was one of the hidden tools that were not standard military tricks. He would arm himself with others as well.

  Someone was going to find him a very difficult target to terminate.

  Kith flinched outwardly, though he tried his best to resist the reaction. Nevertheless, when Ravenna took the vicious blow to her back and fell to the dirt floor, no doubt skinning her knees as she landed on them, he felt the physical pain himself as it shuddered up and down her spine. That, of course, was why he was here. They knew that he would feel every moment of Rave’s agony, knew that it would be torture for him to kneel there helplessly watching as they did their worst to her.

  Finally, they reached for the
back of her gown, tearing it roughly, their huge, mauling hands rending the Yojni silk with eager ease. One of the Banda Nomaads chuckled with that grunting way they all had when they saw the smooth copper skin of Rave’s back. Then the bastard reached out with rough, short fingers to stroke her lasciviously. Kith felt Rave’s sudden wash of revulsion and shame as well as blinding fury, both his own and hers, as she was violated by the common scum of this tribe. He tried to surge to his feet. The guards behind him were prepared for his reaction, though, and they easily shoved him back to his knees with their harsh hands on his shoulders. His arms were bound to a prison stick running horizontally across his back; otherwise, he would have ripped out their cursed hearts.

  The guard continued his foray across Rave’s skin, and Kith could feel her embarrassment and anguish right down to his soul. He could not see her bowed face from behind the fall of her hair, but he knew she had lost her pride to slow, pained tears. The guard made free with her, stroking under the silk of the torn gown and around to her breast. Kith wanted to scream, to roar his emotions and hers to the entire universe. Surely, feelings like this had a power more useful and more potent than to shred a spirit apart!

  Why did she not fight them? Gods, how he wished he could touch her mind and force her to resist. He knew she was holding back, lying in wait, biding her time for her “hero,” this warrior she saw in her visions. She had made Kith promise that no matter what happened, he would not betray her secrets until she was ready. It was a promise he now despised himself for.

  “Rave!”

  “No!” she cried back, because as always she already knew what he was thinking.

  If she could bear this humiliation, then Kith must bear it, too, she thought, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as coarse, clumsy fingers jerked at her sensitive nipple. She knew they would not, could not rape her. They couldn’t lessen her sale value in that way. Though they could probably do everything but. They would do it not just to make use of her, commoners suddenly able to access a Chosen One; they would do it just for the delight of torturing Kith. She knew Kith wanted her to fight. She knew they both had the power to escape this prison chamber and these callous ruffians, but there were other lives at stake, and she could not tip her hand until the time was right. She felt it in the marrow of her bones: Bronse was coming. He was even now hurtling toward his destiny with her. If he survived the test to come, he would be her deliverer. If she left it up to herself and Kith alone, they might escape the room, might even escape the stronghold if they were extraordinarily lucky, but there were only enemies and wilderness all around them after that.