Chapter 255

JUST OUTSIDE A SMALL NORTHWESTERN TOWN

Once again Nichols sat worrying in front of his boss' elegant desk. Rich, wealthy, words don't describe the extreme category the older man fit into. Nor can you describe how evil this man is either, Nichols thought, his face devoid of expression as he waited for Mr. Moreau to end his phone call. Nichols dreaded that. When the call ended, Moreau would ask questions that Nichols didn't have acceptable answers to.

The town council members think Moreau is a humble philanthropist who puts others before himself. Of course, they are blinded by their greed and his contributions to the town, and ... their pockets. Wonder if he would remain so high on their list if they ever heard a woman scream as she endured his sick habits, or if they knew what he did when he tired of her and shipped her off to some other sick bastard in another country, or sent her to a cheap whorehouse for the rest of her probably short life?

And my life isn't much better. I expected to be on the other side of our country by now and well away from this madman, but it seems as if he suspects I'm trying to find a way to run. I was almost ready to try it a while back, but there was the sound of that fifty caliber sniper rifle going off in the middle of the night. I haven't seen Bradley since. I guess escaping was just a false hope. Shit. And I know Moreau is going to demand answers in regard to that mercenary team. They were supposed to send a tight-beam to the satellite at noon today, but they didn't. I warned him last week that the long range forecast was predicting heavy snows for the mountains around Winter Park, but he wouldn't allow me to reschedule the attack.

Shit. I'm not convinced the facial recognition software is right, anyway. To me, the image just looks like any other guy with a big hat and beard. Oh, he resembles the picture we have of Hanes, I guess. Whether the guy is Hanes or not, we managed to follow him with satellite views until he got into an SUV that went up that mountain road. There's definitely something going on at the top of the mountain, though. For some inexplicable reason, everything in that area is blurred from satellite view. I, at first, thought the problem must be with the satellite, but I've used others since, and none of them seems to be able to clearly view the mountain. Older views show a big hotel, and a little farther up the road, an abandoned ski lodge. But now the immediate area around that hotel and ski lodge is not only blurred, but it's a no fly zone as well. That's military. When I reported this to Mr. Moreau, he insisted we launch an attack, anyway. All I'm certain of is the building and surrounding property belongs to someone named Jeff Matthews. I researched his background. After college, he did his time in the Army, but his records are sealed, so that's all I could find out about his enlistment. He's an engineer and an inventor, but I can't discover any connection between Matthews and Hanes.

"Talk to me," Moreau said as he put the phone back in its cradle. "How much longer until they attack?"

Nichols cleared his throat. "The mercenaries were supposed to contact us at noon, but so far," he said, glancing at his watch, "they haven't done so. They're five hours overdue. It's possible that the weather is preventing the contact, but the tight beam should have gotten through to the satellite. Remember, that area is extremely rough terrain, and the weather bureau says the mountains are under blizzard conditions."

Moreau slammed his palm against his desk, the "crack" of sound it produced making Nichols flinch. "Just like Atlanta. A few FBI agents could not have defeated a thirty man, heavily-armed, mercenary team, let alone done it without the house even being damaged. Hell, the storm did more damage than the mercenaries. Now we luck up and hack into a camera outside a movie theater and find Hanes going to a movie, then manage to track him toward this mountain, but ... we can't really see what's up there – at least not currently. Right?"

"Yes, Sir. Older satellite views show a big building that we have determined once belonged to Wainwright, Inc. and is now owned by a Jeff Matthews. There is also a deserted ski lodge a little farther up the mountain, but current satellite views are totally blurry for the entire mountaintop."

Moreau leaned back in his chair. "Hanes escaped the best assassin we could find, then an entire group of heavily armed and experienced mercenaries suddenly go missing when they attack a house he's in. Now the most expensive six man mercenary team I've ever hired disappears..."

"Sir, they might only be late reporting in. The weather is terrible and the terrain is nearly impossible. I shudder to even think about what rappeling in that weather would be like."

The men sat quietly for a time, one of them beginning to sweat. Finally Moreau caught Nichols' eye. "I have a plan." Moreau gave instructions as he watched the younger man, thinking, Oh, I know you're planning to run, but just like Bradley, you'll never make it. No one leaves my organization knowing as much as you do. But instead of waiting for you to try to sneak across the field to that wall in the middle of the night, I have a better way to allow you to attempt an escape. If you die, even that will give me some information, and if you don't, then we'll know more about that mountaintop and Hanes. When I want somebody dead, they're dead. Hanes is just taking a little longer than the others.

As Moreau laid out the plan, Nichols' sweating increased.

The Retreat

Arlene walked into the Matthews bedroom, a smile on her face as she thought about her husband. Ann was sitting on the side of the big bed and quickly turned her face away, but Arlene had time to realize that her sister-wife's face was flushed and her eyes were red.

"What's wrong?" the young Queen asked as she hurried over to sit beside Ann.

"Uh, nothing. Just got something in my eye," the pretty redhead said as she kept her face turned away.

"Bullshit," Arlene returned as she put a hand gently on Ann's cheek and turned her face.

"It's nothing," Ann responded, but a sudden gush of tears belied her words.

Arlene wrapped the smaller girl in her arms, just holding her and gently rocking back and forth as her tears flowed. "You didn't cry this much on your wedding night when our husband had to break that armor-plated hymen of yours. I love you. We all love you."

Arlene eventually laid back on the bed and pulled Ann with her, still snuggling the crying girl in her arms. "I'm here when you feel you can talk about it," Arlene said, deeply worried. "Do you want me to get Daddy?"

But Ann violently shook her head as she allowed Arlene to hold her, the tears continuing to flow. Time dragged on as the young Queen racked her brain, wondering what was wrong. There had been an occasional sharp word between the wives, most of those early on in the marriage, but anything not loving among them resulted in their Prime's displeasure, and worse, the Clan Queen's. Also, none of them wanted to disappoint either the Queen or the Prime. There were very few incidents, but even then, most were trivial, resulting in quick apologies from the parties involved. A Prime's females did not fight among themselves. With those thoughts in mind, Arlene wondered who could have said something to hurt Ann's feelings so horribly.

"You have things to do. You don't have to stay here with me," Ann snuffled out, barely audibly.

"I have nothing to do that is nearly as important as what I'm doing right now. My best friend in the world is crying. I'll be here until you can talk about it, then we'll fix whatever is wrong."

That set off the quiet flood of tears again. Arlene just held Ann tightly and waited.

Melissa walked in and started toward them when she realized something was wrong. Arlene looked at her and shook her head. Melissa stopped, her expression questioning. Arlene smiled and motioned toward the door. Melissa turned and quietly left.

Arlene kissed Ann's hair, gently stroking it and her head, then kissed her forehead as the tears began to subside.

"I'm done. It's okay now," Ann quietly said, blowing her nose on a tissue that Arlene offered. Ann tried to sit up, but Arlene wouldn't turn her loose. The two lay facing each other, their faces only inches apart.

Ann tried to shrug. "What?"

"Not going to work. We aren't leaving here until I know what's wrong."

"I'm okay now. Maybe it's time for my..."

"We don't have periods any more, so don't try going there."

Tears sparkled Ann's eyes again.

"Cry if you need too. No matter how long it takes, I'll wait," the young Queen said.

"But I..."

"Ann, I love you. You were my best friend long before you became my sister-wife. We'll fix whatever is wrong. Now spill it."

Ann took a deep breath, closing her red and swollen eyes for a second before opening them to stare into Arlene's. In a shaky voice, "I was supposed to be your handmaiden, just like Mom is Diana's. In the beginning, we were always together. Oh, you're smarter than I am..."

"Bullshit," Arlene whipped out, stretching things a bit. "I barely beat you on some of our tests..."

"And you slow down to wait for me to finish," Ann inserted.

"You always say that, and..."

Ann couldn't help but grin a little. "And it's true."

"Is not. But what's that got to do with all the tears, and why bring up the handmaiden thing?" But Arlene's mind was already weighing things that had happened lately, and she was beginning to worry. She took a breath, almost saying she didn't need or want a handmaiden. Besides, it was an outdated term, but she managed to stop before the words came out of her mouth. "I..."

"You get up in the middle of the night and go out to the Ship to study for your position, and sometimes you do it several times during the day. You train with Security, learning things that I don't know anything about. I am to you as you are to Jeff on the Ship. How can I protect you – help you – when you don't want me around you? We don't even study together anymore. Not since we moved into the new school. Oh, I can come sit with you, but you're always busy on some project or other. I miss being with you, doing things together..." She choked up before she could finish.

Arlene hesitated as she thought, and Ann went on, "Mom and Diana are always together, and Diana seems to really appreciate Mom's opinions. You and I used to talk all the time, but now you're too busy. You even go running without me. We used to run together on the treadmills, but you've stopped that now that you run on the road with our husband. When's the last time we ran on the treadmills together, or swam together, or studied together, or I helped you with a project, huh?"

"But I sat with your head in my lap last night while our husband licked you to a dozen orgasms and we both passed out."

Ann was shaking her head. "We all do that for each other, but what's going to happen if we do go looking for the race that created the Ship's brain? You'll be on the bridge doing all those things, and I'll be ... where? I love you, but I can't be your handmaiden like you promised. Not with you out there by yourself."

"But there's so much I have to learn. Daddy had a long time to learn while the Ship searched for Earth. I just work in an hour or two when I can. Of course that translates into weeks or months Ship time."

"And ... you don't help with the programming of our AI much anymore, so I don't get to be with you there, either."

Arlene hugged her sister-wife again. "You ninny. I can't help with the programming any more – well, at least not much. You and Laura are wayyy beyond anything I really understand. And now that you two have taught the AI to do some of its own programming, I'm scared to do anything. You talk about me being smarter than you. If that's true, how come I can't understand what the two of you are doing with the program, hmmm? And before you say anything, I've noticed that Helen isn't helping much, either. Guess why? Even our genius has become hesitant around you two. You guys understand things about that AI program that even Helen is hesitant to dive into."