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  His arms and torso were magnificent. He’d been designed for strength and stamina underwater and there was little doubt in her mind that he was muscular enough to handle pretty much any situation he was likely to encounter.

  His male member was just as masterful and just as disturbing, if not more so, but Victoria didn’t delude herself that it was in any artistic sense. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was by accident, or design, that the coloration that covered his lower body, almost like an elaborate, intricately detailed tattoo, dipped under his phallus, almost seeming to frame it. Certainly, the effect made it impossible to ignore his endowment.

  It might be a fluke, but she had a sneaking suspicion that somebody in the genetics lab had a warped sense of humor.... Someone gay, or someone female.

  The females hadn’t been designed in such a way—their breasts and their sex were ‘tattooed’, only the males were, apparently, designed for their shock value.

  Somehow, however, she’d never really found the other males quite so ... disturbing, perhaps because they weren’t quite so well endowed?

  The strangest thing about her discomfort, however, was that she didn’t recall ever finding herself in a situation where nudity disturbed her. Privacy was only for high pay officers in the company. The grunts who started at the entry level positions more often than not shared group quarters, which did not allow for excessive modesty. By year two, pretty much everyone had grown accustomed to bathing and showering with, or within view of, everyone else.

  Nor was she without sexual experience. She had never really found a partner that inspired a lot of interest in sex for her, but the company required employees to share sexual favors, not necessarily as recreation, but to cut down on emotional stress and mating competitiveness. She had made it a point to participate at least often enough to keep her name off of the antisocial list—a determination to go up in the pay ranks in the company required a willingness to sacrifice individuality for conformity.

  Unable to come up with a comfortable conclusion, she dismissed it, prodding her memory for the reason she’d decided to confront Raphael. Her irritation returned with the memory.

  “You were probing my thoughts,” she said accusingly.

  He gave her a look of innocence, but his eyes gleamed with amusement. Not I. One of the others, perhaps?

  “I know it was you. I ... uh....”

  The amused gleam was replaced by another emotion, one Victoria was at pains to ignore. Recognize my touch?

  To her surprise and discomfort, a blush mounted her cheeks. “It’s hardly a touch,” she said sharply.

  True. It’s far more intimate than a touch, he countered.

  The comment made her careless. How would you know?

  A slow smile curled his lips. You could always prove me wrong....

  Chapter Two

  “In your wildest dreams,” Victoria responded tartly.

  They’re pretty wild. Would you like me to show you?

  The blush that had barely begun to fade, turned fiery. Self-consciously, Victoria glanced quickly around to see who might have observed the interchange between the two of them. To her relief, most of the crew members were occupied. Roach, however, was dividing a speculative look between her and Raphael.

  She was on the point of striding over to him and demanding to know if he was under the mistaken impression that he held a special position on the crew that allowed him to sit on his ass while everyone else worked, but Raphael caught her attention once more.

  Why do you call me Raphael? It’s not the ... name I was given.

  Victoria’s head snapped around. For a moment, their gazes locked. With an effort she broke the contact, gazing over his shoulder at the other crew members, who’d congregated at the opposite end of the tank. She wasn’t about to tell him how she’d arrived at the name, however. “Names are easier to remember than numbers,” she said flatly.

  But that’s not the reason, is it?

  Victoria looked at him a moment before her gaze wandered to the others once more as it occurred to her to wonder if they could ‘hear’ the conversation between her and Raphael.

  They’re not listening. It wouldn’t be polite.

  Irritation surfaced again. “You don’t seem to have a problem listening to my private thoughts.”

  His brows rose. I thought we were conversing.

  Victoria gave him a look. They both knew he’d been under no such misapprehension, but it seemed childish to bicker about it. “I gave everyone names because ... it’s part of who a person is and how they identify themselves.”

  He studied her consideringly. This is why you don’t like it when Roach over there calls you Tory. It’s too ... intimate. Victoria is less approachable, isn’t it?

  Caught off guard, Victoria allowed him to capture her gaze once more. To her relief, however, Huggins announced on the inner com at that moment that they were about to dock. “We’re docking. You’ll have to excuse me.”

  * * * *

  It looked far worse up close than it had from the viewing screen, and she’d thought it looked like hell from several miles out. Victoria stood on the gangplank, surveying the landing platform and the area immediately around it.

  Most of the damage appeared to be the ravages of severe weather, but there were at least two scorched areas Victoria was almost certain were from laser fire. She held up one hand as crew members began to crowd onto the gang plank behind her.

  “Hold! Roach, get the weapons out.”

  Nobody moved and after a moment Victoria turned around and looked at them. “Today, people!”

  They scattered, moving to the cases that held the lasers. Victoria stepped back up the gangplank until she reached the inner com. “Huggins?”

  “What is it, Anderson?”

  “Looks like we might have had some laser fire here. You might as well settle in for a game of cards.”

  “Laser fire?”

  “Could be lightening strike, but I’m going to take the crew in to check it out before we begin off loading.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  “Will do.” She looked up. “Roach, issue everybody a com unit too. We’re going to take this by twos. Roach, you and Kichens. Brown, you can go with Tuttle. Clancy, you’re with me.”

  Trouble?

  Victoria frowned. Could be. I’m not certain yet, but you’d think someone would’ve come up to greet us, wouldn’t you?--I’d just rather be safe than sorry.

  We should check the mine area.

  Right. Hang on a minute.

  She followed her surface crew members down the gang plank. “Spread out and check the immediate area. I don’t want anyone going down, yet, though.” She moved to the edge of the platform and looked down, calculating the distance to the surface of the water. Looks like about 20 to 30 feet, Raphael. Hold for now. We’ll check the main structure. When we get done, I’ll have the tank lowered and your crew can go in and check out the mines.

  We could make the dive.

  No. It’s too risky.

  It could be more risky to leave three quarters of your team caged and unable to come to your aid.

  That’s an asinine thing to say, Raphael.

  But true.

  It’s completely unjust and you damn well know it! The containment’s for the water, not the crew ... Have it your way! She stalked up the gangplank to the inner com. “Huggins. I need you to lower the tank. The deep sea crew is going in to check out the mines.” She released the button. “Clancy, give me a hand lowering a case of munitions for the crew. If they do run into trouble, I want them armed.”

  When they’d removed the munitions case, the gangplank was raised and Huggins moved the ship just off side the habitat. Hovering a few meters above the water, he lowered the containment and released it as Clancy and Victoria watched from the flight deck.

  As soon as she saw they’d safely off-loaded, she and Clancy secured the munitions case, wrenched it up over the top of the railing and began lowering it o
ver the side.

  The railing wobbled as Clancy climbed up on it to steady the guide wire. Victoria looked at it in alarm. “Get down, Clancy.”

  He glanced at her. “We need to hold the case free of the structure and make sure it doesn’t get tangled on the way down. It’s got a little wobble to it, but it’s safe enough.”

  Victoria was checking the railing as the first pair of crew members returned to report in. “Tuttle, find something we can use to steady the munitions case while we lower it. Clancy, get off the damned rail. It’s unstable.”

  Tuttle returned with a bar, Roach and Brown trailing behind her. The bar had a right angle on one end she used to catch the guide wire. Roach set his laser down and went to the railing, leaning over it to peer down.

  “Get off....” Victoria broke off as the railing leaned outward with the grinding shriek of metal. “Grab him. Somebody grab him!” she yelled as Clancy, who’d already begun to climb down, teetered when the railing shifted.

  Time seemed to hold its breath, slowing almost to a standstill. She released her hold on the guide wire, leaping forward with one hand outstretched. She managed to grasp a handful of Clancy’s clothing, but it was snatched from her grip as he went over with the railing.

  “Head’s up!” she yelled to the crew below as she watched one whole section of railing break loose and begin to fall, watched Clancy twist, grabbing frantically for a handhold. He caught the edge of the platform. She hit the deck, almost skidding off the edge of the platform herself, trying to stop her slide and grab Clancy’s hand at the same time.

  One of the crew members grabbed her legs, anchoring her to the deck. Brown grabbed a handful of Clancy’s sleeve. He slipped from both their grasps, following the broken railing over the side.

  Numbly, she watched as he seemed to fall in slow motion, endlessly. Below, the crate of munitions crashed into the sea. The railing struck the water only seconds behind it. The crew below had scattered to a safe distance when the first shouts went up. She caught a glimpse of their upturned faces and bare shoulders, bobbing above the water, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from Clancy as he continued to fall on and on, his face screwed up as he yelled something she couldn’t seem to hear, his body twisting.

  He was almost halfway down when something shot from the water like a projectile from a cannon. She realized it was one of the sea crew as he met the falling man midair. The smacking sound of colliding bodies was like a thunder clap. They seemed to struggle for several moments and then Raphael gripped Clancy tightly against him and executed a mid-air back flip. They seemed almost to hover for several heartbeats before slicing head first through the water.

  Victoria held her breath, waiting, watching for them to emerge, fearing they’d struck some of the debris below and it had injured both of them.

  After what seemed a very long time, two heads bobbed up.

  “Is he alive?” she shouted.

  He’s breathing. I don’t know how long.

  Victoria leapt to her feet and raced toward the ship. It took her ten minutes to prep a pod. Tuttle burst through the hatch and scrambled into the jump seat before she could lift off. Victoria nodded at the medic and punched the button to open the bay door, launching the pod almost simultaneously.

  Within seconds, they were skimming just above the reach of the waves. Tuttle threw her restraints off and opened the hatch as they drew alongside the two men. Clancy, Victoria saw as she twisted around for a quick look, was bleeding from the mouth and nose. Raphael was bloody, as well, but she couldn’t tell if it was from his own injuries or if it was Clancy’s blood.

  “Get in, Raphael. We need to check you out, too.”

  He shook his head. “I’m all right.”

  “Damn it, Raphael! Get in the frigging pod!”

  A slightly crooked smile curled his lips. “I do love a woman with fire,” he murmured. In the next second, he’d disappeared beneath the waves.

  Victoria was still gaping at the space he’d so lately occupied when Tuttle sealed the hatch. Briefly, their gazes collided. Victoria turned away, shooting skyward once more with the pod the moment Tuttle announced that she and Clancy were secured.

  Clancy was barely breathing when they managed to get him onto an examination table in sick bay. Working together, they were able to get him stabilized after about an hour. They could find no evidence of internal bleeding from his organs. He was suffering from a concussion and several breaks, however, including his collar bone, several cracked ribs and two breaks on his left arm. When they’d set the breaks and stabilized the arm, they bound his ribs and realigned his collar bone, binding him to keep it from shifting again.

  Finally, Victoria left Tuttle to keep a watch on him and returned to the deck. Brown and Kichens met her at the end of the gangplank. “Is Clancy going to make it?

  Victoria drew in a deep breath. “Looks like it.” She scanned the area. Roach was sitting on the deck, tossing coins at the wall. It was patently obvious that he was completely unmoved by everything that had just happened, despite the fact that he could hardly have failed to know that it was his added weight on the railing that had caused the accident. Victoria saw blood. She strode over to him and decked him with her fist on the side of his jaw. He fell sideways. Before she could swing at him again, Brown and Kichens seized her.

  “You damn near got two men killed ... endangered the crew members below. You step out of line one more time, Roach, and you’ll be spending the next six months in the brig!”

  He rubbed his jaw, grinning up at her, but there was malice in his eyes. “Damn, Tory! That almost hurt!”

  Victoria tried to pull free, but Brown and Kichens had a firm grip on each of her arms. “Tell me you understand what I just told you, Roach!”

  He shrugged. “I heard you say Clancy was OK.”

  “He’s NOT OK! He’ll probably live, but he’s not OK And he wouldn’t even be in that good a shape if Raphael hadn’t risked his life to save him!”

  Roach looked at her blankly a moment, then smiled snidely. “You mean lead tadpole?”

  Brown released her, but before Victoria could react, he’d slugged Roach so hard his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Victoria glared at the semi-conscious man. “Lock him in the brig, Brown. When you’re done, check on Clancy. If it’s safe enough to leave him for a little while, bring Tuttle back with you. If not ... I guess it’ll just be the three of us making the sweep.”

  * * * *

  Brown and Tuttle had discovered the power station had been blown when they’d made their sweep of the upper deck, which meant neither the lights nor the lift were working. After collecting miner’s helmets, Victoria led the way down the stairs.

  The upper deck was supported above main operations by a web of steel girders. Victoria examined them as they descended, but could see no obvious signs of damage. She paused as they reached the lower deck, looking out over the railing at the sea below them. She’d heard nothing from the deep sea crew since they’d gone under to retrieve the munitions. She’d tried reaching Raphael telepathically several times, but he either wasn’t responding or he wasn’t able to ‘hear’ her over such a distance. The underwater com units didn’t appear to work—not really surprising since the ones they were using didn’t work worth a shit either. She didn’t know whether to put it down to the planet’s conditions, or sorry equipment—neither of which would have surprised her.

  It made her uneasy that she hadn’t heard from the crew, however. She had no way of telling if they’d managed to retrieve their weapons, or if they’d encountered a threat below.

  She glanced at Brown and Kichens. “This could be nothing more than weather damage, so watch it with the lasers. We don’t want to shoot any of the good guys.”

  Kichens and Brown exchanged a look, but it was Kichens who spoke. “You think there’s a chance there’s still somebody alive down there?”

  It was the question everyone had been avoiding, but they all knew it was doubtf
ul. Both communications and the power were out. If there’d been anyone left, there would have been signs that attempts had been made to restore the power at least. Beyond that, they had made no attempt at a stealthy arrival. Even if the entire ground crew was huddled below for some reason, they must have heard the arrival of the relief crew.

  But it was inconceivable to Victoria that all sixty crew members had been killed.

  It would almost have been easier to believe pirates had raided the place except for the fact that there were no obvious signs of an attack—two possible laser blasts, and possibly not—no signs of blood—no bodies. And they’d found a good bit of expensive equipment. It seemed doubtful pirates would’ve overlooked it.

  “We have to assume there are some survivors,” she responded finally. “If there are, they could be armed, so watch yourselves.”

  The door, they discovered, was locked.

  Victoria and Kichens stood back while Brown hit it with a blast of laser fire, then kicked it open before stepping back. Victoria stood away from the direct line of fire. “Replacement crew!” she yelled. “Is anybody hurt down there?”

  Her voice echoed eerily down the stairwell. She waited several minutes, listening intently. “This is Victoria Anderson. I’m the mission supervisor with NCO! We’re coming down!”

  Again, her voice echoed hollowly, as if she’d shouted into a metal can. After waiting for a response and receiving none, she entered the stairwell, keeping as close to the wall as possible. They made their way down to the first level. The door opened out onto the stairwell, but it was steel, at least, and would protect whoever opened it from fire in the event someone was waiting for them.

  She and Brown flattened themselves against the wall by the opening and she nodded for Kichens to open it. Kichens grasped the handle and gave it a yank. The door didn’t budge. The three of them exchanged a look. “They sealed themselves in,” Victoria muttered. It began to look like an attack after all.