Zenith, p.16
Zenith, page 16
“I’m in,” Callie told him. “But it’s just the entertainment side of the system, access to the beverage replenishment reminders and the like.”
“Then step back,” he commanded. “That’s all I need. Farah always argued that all the AI systems should be coordinated and conjoined. She told Evens that was how her ridiculous toys would learn to give beings what they needed.” He snorted. “But I guess she wasn’t so wrong since I used her nonsense to sell my contacts on upgraded murder machines.” He shrugged, making the kitchen bot’s free limb rise awkwardly in echo. “In sex and in killing, so much more convenient to command something else to find those vital spots.”
Her own people had hired a beast battalion to protect their nuptial negotiations because they hadn’t trusted themselves—rightly so, it turned out—to not ruin the blessed event. So maybe Ransey wasn’t so wrong in his theory but in his execution.
But those beasts had sacrificed their place in their world to finish their mission of saving her, freeing them to find their mates. She would not let their new lives be for nothing.
And oh, but she did not want to be executed herself, not now when she’d come so far.
Zenith still hung from the bot’s grasp, dripping dirty water mixed with his blood. But his gaze on her was sharp and aware—and glinting metallic with the fury of his gryfon.
She gave him a slow blink. She would be ready for whatever he did.
She stood to one side, watching Ransey reach through the protection of the kitchen bot shell to tap quickly at the console. She didn’t know most of the commands, but she recognized some of the symbols from watching over Farah and Tyler’s hunched shoulders.
A curl of more righteous anger twined itself around her fear of death. Tyler had been brought in to create an algorithm to unite wistful would-be lovers, and Farah had only wanted to give lonely bodies the release of as many blissful orgasms as they might desire. And yet here was this cruel, frustrated being trying to usurp their party and their programming for his own decidedly unloving impulses. It was just wrong. If he wanted to make war, he could do it elsewhere. Here and now, this little locale of Sunset Falls, Montana, Earth, Milky Way, was dedicated to love.
But they were going to have to fight first.
Concentrating on the console, Ransey leaned out of his rigged bot armor, leaving a gap. Maybe with Zenith still locked dangling from the bot’s pincher, Ransey believed the worst threat was neutralized. Callie didn’t disagree with him, which as far as she was concerned was an excellent opportunity.
She’d always been just a pawn in other people’s plans, a hapless body in their battles amongst themselves. But Zenith had told her once she was stronger than he’d guessed…
Without pausing to think any more about it—because if she did she was sure she would talk herself out of it—she edged closer, avoiding the bot’s deadly implements. She reached past the rough edges of the bot’s internal compartment, where normally the hollow interior served as a storage cabinet for dishware, and yanked Ransey out of its shell.
Or tried to. He was partly belted into his machine, and despite all her backward momentum, she was able to yank him only halfway out. So much for hoping to be stronger than she knew.
Though Ransey yelled and batted at her, she set her jaw and hung on grimly as he flailed for the controls. They were fortunate that he was—rightly—paranoid about virtual manipulation and had opted for a hardwired interface, because if he’d had a neural link he could have bypassed the joysticks and toggles to rip her apart remotely.
Instead, they both groped for the controllers.
A glint from the corner of her eye and a sharp cry warned her that the gryfon had joined the fight. She couldn’t risk dividing her focus, but a feather drifting past told her Zenith must have slipped loose as he changed.
He might be always himself, but some of him was harder to hold onto.
Ransey’s fist caught her in the side of the head, making her reel, but she held fast, and suddenly he was falling out of the bot.
Zenith slashed again at the securing straps, and with another mighty heave, she pulled Ransey out of his lethal shell.
A trickle of sweat tickled her temple. She hadn’t worked this hard since she was shoved in a box and she cried her eyes out. She swiped at the blinding, stinging trickle—and froze at the sight of her own blood, awful memories swamping her, stickier than the blood.
Zenith was dragging Ransey unceremoniously away from the bot, the sharp hook of his beak pierced through the other male’s tunic.
Ransey twisted, clawing at him with ineffectual hands. “Filthy animal. Let go!”
They grappled near the edge of the loft. A powerful blow of Zenith’s wing broke through the antique railing, exposing a dangerous plummet to the floor below. A fall wouldn’t be dangerous for a gryfon.
Unless he was trapped.
Ransey, apparently realizing his peril and the opportunity, clutched at Zenith. “I’ll take you with me, beast.”
Zenith snarled back his willingness to take that risk.
As they wavered on the edge, Ransey shouted, “Terminal sequence!”
The bot sprang into motion. The coiled limbs of knives flashed and the treads grated across the old floorboards in jagged splinters, spinning toward the two males grappling over the fall. Callie cringed away. No more bots…
But the heinous thing was headed right toward Zenith and in his wounded state he was at a disadvantage against the other male’s killer kitchen construct.
If the bot got to Zenith, her gryfon wouldn’t have a chance. But what could she do? It seemed she didn’t have the strength or the skills to attack the machine and actually expect to win.
What had she told Zenith when they first met, that all she had was her hair, long gone, an eye for detail, and a certain attitude? None of that was going to help her now. What was left?
She had half a heartbeat to watch the bot lumber toward Zenith. He had Ransey trapped and suspended over the perilous fall, and the other male had gone slack—not in submission, just waiting for his killer bot to arrive.
Callie sprang forward. If she was wrong, she was throwing herself into danger—on purpose this time. For once, she wouldn’t be the innocent victim; she was doing this to herself.
Doing it for the IDA and Zenith. And for herself.
Ransey might’ve thought he could steal everything—Farah’s hard work, Evens’ chance with Farah, the hopeful futures of a universe of lonely beings—but he wasn’t going to take away her newfound courage.
Callie lunged into the hollow core of the bot. The jagged edges where Ransey had cut away tore at her skin, clutching at her, and the memory of being locked in shredded her confidence. But she had to take over.
The sharp tang of dish-cleaning solvent choked her. She didn’t fit in the tight cabinet hollow and could only wedge herself ridiculously halfway in. She tugged at the controller and poked urgently at the buttons to no avail. The controls were locked. Whatever the terminal sequence was, it required no further input from anyone else.
One last chance.
Summoning up a command prompt that had so far rejected all her input, she whispered, “It’s not me, it’s you.”
The bot’s treads spun once more and froze.
She let out a short, shuddering sigh. If only all war bots were based on sex machine consent rules.
Ransey craned his neck, obviously wondering why his rescue wasn’t coming. “What have you done?” he shrieked.
She wriggled free from the bot’s shell, tugging at her crystal-studded skirt when it snagged on the serrated metal. “That’s what you get for stealing from a love machine,” she snapped. “The bot says no to your hatred.”
Ransey strained against the gryfon’s hold. “I replaced everything with kill codes,” he whined. “And I locked all the commands.”
“Not all,” Callie said. “Zenith, let him go.”
When the gryfon opened wide, tail lashing, Ransey charged at her.
“Big spoon,” she ordered.
The bot reeved around her and spun toward Ransey who rocked to a halt. “No, wait…”
He turned to run, but the bot reached out to snag him and reeled him closer, hugging him tight. Once it had him safely in its embrace, it shut down.
The arms dealer shrieked in dismay.
Callie wrinkled her nose. “You’re just lucky the peeler and melon-baller were pointed outward,” she said with a sniff.
In the bot’s grasp, Ransey wilted as Zenith let out a hissing laugh.
“Coming right up,” she told him. She scrambled for a small bin tucked discreetly in a corner. She threw open the lid and pawed through for the security restraints near the bottom and pulled out a shirt and trousers since Zenith would need those.
She grabbed the plasma pistol in there too, and pointed it at Ransey while Zenith shifted, dressed, and cuffed the other male. She kept the pistol aimed and steady while Zenith went to the command center console and corrected whatever damage or misdirection Ransey had initiated. “I’m sending a warning—” he started.
Before he could finish, Cross and Sol were bursting through the open light panels above them. The wyvryn and fynix were every bit as powerful and fiery as she remembered from her first rescue that started all this, and behind them, the Montana sky lit up with the pyrotechnical spectacle that marked the end of the ball. Colors and streamers and sparkles burned against the dark, bold and brilliant.
But her eyes went back to Zenith. Even in his upright form, compact and lithe, he’d always been the one who caught her eye.
Could she catch the rest of him?
The fight for the IDA might be over, but she had not yet finished the hunt for her alien mate.
Chapter 15
Zenith lifted a hand to his crew. “Site is secured,” he told them. “Signals are reinitiated. Real-time tracking is catching up in order of the priorities we set.” He was sore, agitated, and wanted nothing more than to drop Ransey on his head for terrifying Callie. Instead, he let out a calming breath. “How did you know where to find us?”
Sol dipped his shining head toward Callie and let out a sound caught between a single belling note and a squawk.
When Zenith slanted a look at her, she shrugged. “The tracker you put on me.” She waggled her fingers at him, never taking the pistol’s aim off of Ransey. “I just hoped the Xymiran signal would get through to your friends.”
Cross, in his large wyvryn shape, landed lightly beside them, his wings curving like a shield as he dipped his head with an approving rumble.
Despite the fierceness of the beast, Callie smiled up at him. “You’re welcome.”
A shimmer of wild feeling ran through Zenith, not unlike when he changed. Except he’d told Callie he never changed; he was always just himself. And maybe that was true, maybe he was still the same beast, but now he really saw with the gryfon’s sharp, clear gaze his place among the others. He had never truly been alone, and they’d always given him space to be—and then welcomed him back in his endless circles.
He could have the big night sky with all its stars…and claim the light of Callie’s love too.
But first he had to win the princess.
Cross easily dragged Ransey across the floor, and the other male made no protest considering how close he was to the beast’s long fangs. Callie tracked him with the pistol.
“He’s definitely not going to be getting away again,” Zenith noted. “Between the bot, the beast, and you, he doesn’t have a chance.”
She glared at the hapless Ransey. “I should shoot him! He tried to kill you.”
Although her worry was misplaced—the fall wouldn’t have been too bad—the intensity of her reaction and her protectiveness made his gryfon purr. She would’ve been a valued fighter in a beast battalion.
“And you stopped him,” he soothed.
She slanted a glance at him, back at Ransey, and then slowly lowered the weapon. “I guess it was just nice for once to be the one with some power,” she admitted. “Even if I had to borrow it from your box.”
“You had all the power,” Zenith reminded her. “You caught Ransey and deactivated his bot, and we’ll be able to inform closed-world authorities about the exploitable weakness in his banned war bots. If he sold to anyone, they’ll be stopped.”
Her smile dawned slowly. “That’s true. For once, I saved the day—and maybe other beings—instead of needing to be saved.”
Clarg burst into the control room, squelching furiously and gesticulating with a set of multi-manacled restraints. As the Ajellomene hauled Ransey out with three plasma-armed staff members close behind, Evens stepped in, Farah on his heels. The two watched their adversary go with arched brows, thoughtful on Evens’ part and decidedly more scornful from Farah.
Turning away, the one-time thrift shop proprietor veered toward Callie. “My dear, I’m so sorry that once again you’ve been terrorized on my premises. You made this night a success and yet this experience has been awful for you.”
She shook her head, the meraqrystal in the black spikes of her hair still glinting. “I’m fine. We had a moment”—she cut a sidelong glance at Zenith—“but we overcame.”
“Almost over the railing,” he murmured as he stepped up beside her. From his pocket, he withdrew an emergency aid kit, something a beast battalion should always have on hand. The bump on Callie’s forehead had only bled a bit, but he wiped it away gently.
She nudged him with her shoulder. “You could just fly away.”
“No. Not without you.”
Her dark eyes gleamed bright as crystals and stars and the night itself, and she kept her weight against him. “We make a great team.”
“You do.” Evens beamed at them. “Which is why I feel confident leaving the IDA to you.”
“What?” Callie straightened abruptly. “Leave…?”
Zenith took her elbow to steady her. “Where are you going?”
Evens rocked the cane in front of him, lips pursed. “I believe I fundamentally misunderstood my own impulses in wanting to reopen the Intergalactic Dating Agency.” His gaze strayed to Farah.
Who snorted as she cocked a hand on her hip. “Never heard you admit a mistake before.”
He shook his head. “I knew I’d made a mistake when I watched you leave.”
Farah took a step back. “Wha… No. Oh no you don’t. Your first triumphant matchmaking at the Big Sky IDA is not going to be us!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hesitated. “That’s not true. I did dream of it, but…maybe I should ask you on that date first.”
Hot color flushed the Earther female’s cheeks. “You think a big party and pretty words and a universe of would-be lovers will entice me to fall at your feet again?”
“I think this time it’s my turn to fall at yours.”
For a moment, she only stared at him. Then the corner of her mouth slowly curled. “This I gotta see.”
He cupped his free hand under her elbow, angling her toward the door. “Then come with me.”
“But…” Callie took a stumbling step after them. “What about the IDA?”
Farah glanced back at them. “You can have my machines for the gift shop.”
Tyler and Brin hustled in, looking almost as flustered as Clarg. “What did we miss?” Brin demanded.
Zenith laughed.
Cross and Sol had shifted back, making use of his stashed cache of clothing, all of it just a little small for them. He just bit the inside of his cheek watching them tug surreptitiously at their cuffs while Callie told the two Earther women everything that had happened.
Tyler pressed one thumb against her temple. “So we’re running the IDA now? Gonna need more coffee.”
Cross pulled her against his side. “Tomorrow. For tonight, we did it.”
Nodding vigorously, Brin snuggled next to Sol. “This definitely calls for some sort of drink. Callie did such a great job of the refreshments, there should be something good left for the afterparty.”
As the two couples pivoted in unison, Zenith snagged Callie’s hand and said, “We’ll catch up.”
“Catch something,” Cross murmured under his breath.
Tyler squinted. “Algorithm says…it’s a match.”
Callie made a soft noise he couldn’t decipher, but Zenith waited until they were alone—alone together—to wind her closer.
“Are you truly all right?” He gazed into her dark eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but…yes. I’m a little shaky, shocked, but all right.” Her fingers tightened on his. “And you?”
“Wondering how we got here.”
“Via spaceships, on the wing, a touch of fate.” She smiled at him.
He shook his head. “You found me. I fell for you. That was all us.”
Her lips parted. “Us?”
The gryfon loved the sibilance in that word, and he reached up to glide his fingertip over the inward curve of her lower lip where she’d caught the flesh between her teeth, as if she were holding back. “You wanted a beast, remember? Now you have one. If you still want it. Want me.”
Those little teeth closed gently on his finger, her tongue darting out unseen to tease him.
Ah yes, she wanted.
He took her up to a hidden nook tucked at the peak of the moonshiner’s shack that looked out over the dark wilds. Music still played in the distance, and a few last fireworks popped and sparkled above them, shimmering in her crystals and her eyes as he loved her. And when she finally cried out in ecstasy for the last time, the silent shine of the stars was the only answer.
He curled his wings around her, fluffing the feathers to protect her from the night chill.
“My beast,” she murmured, a faint growl of possession in her tone.
“Yours,” he confessed. “Night and day and always.”
Epilogue
Welcome, lonely being, to the Big Sky Intergalactic Dating Agency!
(Now under new management!)
The universe is infinite, just like the chances for love! If your heart(s) and/or other organs symbolizing emotional and passionate connection are ready, so are our algorithms and our renovated resort in star-studded Montana Earth! We’ve gone above and beyond and beyond that to find bodies/souls to synchronize with your truest desires.
