Once the ship was free, he set a course for Alpha Nine Seven, a space station in the Herlian sector where he would meet up with his mission partner, Brock Mann. Cy-Ops had gotten word the terrorist nation planet Lamis-Odg had set up another outpost, and he and Brock had been ordered to investigate. Guy switched piloting to the computer and left the cockpit. Now, the gift.
What could Jessamine have given him?
Ping! An encrypted communiqué from Cy-Ops Director Carter Aymes shot into his cyberbrain. He opened a frequency, but continued to shoulder his way through the narrow corridor.
Where are you? Carter asked.
Just left Terra. Had to bypass a solar wind storm, so I went a little out of my way, but I’ll be on Alpha Nine Seven as scheduled.
Change in plans. I’m sending Kai Andros to A-9-7. I need you for recon in the Katnian sector.
Katnia? What’s going on?
Intel has picked up signs of activity.
What kind of activity?
A ship reportedly landed.
Every captain and navigator steered clear of Katnia. Even the AOP, which had waited far too long to take action against the terrorist nation planet Lamis-Odg, recognized the threat posed by the Ka-Tȇ. If those creatures ever left their planet, they would go on a killing spree the likes of which the galaxy had never seen. The only thing keeping them in check was a lack of technology enabling them to leave. Who would be stupid enough to land there?
Pirates. They attacked a star cruiser a few weeks ago. An escape pod with eighteen people vanished.
Guy stopped dead outside his stateroom. You’re not suggesting they took the hostages to Katnia?
I would prefer to imagine anything else, but this particular pirate group, calling itself Quasar, has been known to hide out on Katnia in the past. No one, not even intergalactic authorities will follow them there. I have a bad feeling they’ve been providing the Ka-Tȇ hostages as prey in exchange for a safe haven from prosecution. Viciousness was inbred in the Ka-Tȇ. Their nature was what it was—but for a sentient species to give them victims… Sometimes Cyber Operations fought a losing battle in its mission to keep the galaxy safe from terror. So you want me to search for survivors?
Negative. It’s too dangerous. Do a recon from orbit. See if you can pick up any tracers from ships that might have been in the area. To be on the safe side, run a scan for nonnative life forms. If you detect any anomalies, we’ll send a team in full armor. Don’t do anything stupid. Even a cyborg is no match for the Ka-Tȇ. They hunt in packs.
Roger. He didn’t have a problem with not risking his life. Guy cocked his head as his cochlear implant detected a faint noise not part of the shuttle.
How did everything go on Terra? Carter paused. Are you okay?
I’m fine. Shit happens. He shrugged. I needed to go home anyway. My family missed me, and my niece is growing up. She’s a little pistol.
Well, I’m sorry.
Guy’s gut tightened. He appreciated Carter’s concern about his broken engagement, but he didn’t care to discuss it. He wanted to move on. I’m over it. Her loss. Anything else?
No. Keep me informed.
The noise was growing louder and seemed to originate from inside his cabin. Will do.
Aymes out, Carter said.
Roarke out.
Guy pushed into his cabin. Next to his bags was the gift—a box tied with a big red bow. The carton was moving. And mewing. “Oh, Jessamine, what did you do?”
The box bumped into his foot. Atop the lid his niece had written: LIVE ANAMUL. OPEN IMED IMID SOON!
He ripped off the bow and peeled back the top. Inside, an angry, frightened kitten hissed. Jessamine’s cat had birthed a litter, and he recognized this baby by its gray coat, four white feet, and a blotch shaped like a star on its button nose.
Sighing, he reached into the carton.
The kitten growled and swiped its claws across his skin.
“Ow!” Guy yanked his hand back. The kitten leaped out and dove under the berth.
Great. Just great. How could his niece have done such a thing? She shouldn’t have boxed up a live animal—even if she did punch air holes in the carton. If she hadn’t contacted him and insisted he open the present, the kitten might have remained inside for quite a while.
In the corner of the container, he spotted a slip of paper, partially shredded. He unfolded it.
Dear Uncle Guy,
I know you are sad, and I want you to be happy. I am giving you one of Fluffy’s kittens so you won’t be lonely. I named her Mittzi becuz she has four wite white mittens. Pleez come home again, soon.
Jessamine
XOXO
His sister worried about him, but Carter, too, and now Jessamine? He hadn’t hidden his feelings well enough if his seven-year-old niece could pick up on them.
His fiancée’s defection had devastated him.
He’d met Mariah in a cocktail lounge at the Darius 4 Pleasure Resort. Later, they’d laughed at the cliché of their meeting, how their eyes had locked across the crowded room. He’d wended his way among the floating tables, introduced himself, and offered to buy her a drink. For him, it had been love at first sight. Mariah had claimed the same, but after what had happened, he wondered.
She’d been swept away by the romance of dating a cyber operative. A cyborg. An elite breed of computer-enhanced men. Rough. Tough. Sexy as hell. Her description—not his. Her admiration embarrassed him. He hadn’t chosen to become a cyborg; tragic circumstances had forced it upon him. He was proud of his service to the galaxy, but he didn’t consider himself special in any way.
Still, she’d made him feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy—for sure, one of the luckiest cyborgs. Guy could count on one hand the number of cyber operatives who had steady, healthy relationships: Brock Mann and Penelope Aaron, Kai and Mariska Andros, Dale Homme and Illumina, March Fellows and Empress Julietta, and Sonny Masters and Amanda Mansfield. Five fingers—five couples out of hundreds of agents.
After their vacation, they’d continued to see each other and, after a year of intergalactic dating, Guy had popped the question. Mariah had accepted and begun planning the wedding of the millennium. He’d put in for a month’s R&R so they could get married and go on a honeymoon. Undercover for months at a time, he’d been unable to be there when she wanted his opinion on the wedding arrangements. His inability to participate hadn’t thrilled her, but he’d assumed she understood.
Turned out he wasn’t one of the lucky ones.
Mariah had fallen for the fantasy of being the wife of a secret cyber operations agent more than she appreciated the reality. Two months before the wedding date, she sent him a Dear John letter.
Yeah, their breakup was as clichéd as their meeting.
Dear Guy,
I’m so sorry. I can’t marry you. I haven’t been able to find the words to tell you, but I met someone else. Someday you’ll find the right woman who will be everything you need her to be.
Mariah.
Sent from her PerComm, it had popped into his cyberbrain during a meeting with Cy-Ops HQ.
Nice. But his reaction to being jilted had proved her point. Cyborgs were a different breed. While his human side wanted to punch the wall, his computer-controlled cyborg brain carried on with the strategy session like nothing had happened. Two months later, he went home, using scheduled R&R for a family visit instead of a wedding. Curious and precocious, Jessamine kept him on his toes and amused him, even if she did wear him out after a while.