Chapter 2: CHAPTER TWO
There it was, the CFS Valkyrie. A Delean-class vessel assigned to exploration and
general backup for the colonies and planets in this sector. Lyon swore under his breath.
He'd assumed that they would transport him back to the Terran sector on the Arcadia.
That was the eventuality his team had been briefed for in case the snatch and grab went
wrong and they had to recover any of the team.
Great, just bloody great. Unless he did something, his team would tail the Arcadia
across the sector. Only to find their prize was on a ship heading the other way.
The guard behind him checked the mag-cuffs and he was ushered out of the cell.
Despite the fact he was restrained, the guards kept a healthy distance from him. Lyon
didn't blame them. The hardware he was packing under his skin meant he could
hospitalize someone just by falling on them.
He sighed as the little group started down the corridor toward the airlock and the
ship he was being transferred to. They stayed far enough out of range that he couldn't
even try a grab and strangle maneuver. Someone would have a rifle in his guts before
he could blink. But he didn't need to disable anyone to get a message to his team that he
was being transferred. All he needed was an open comms port and a half second to get
a data burst through it. Then he was home free…
"Late, late. I'm going to be late. Damn it."
Samara bustled down the hall. She was late for her shift. Again. The third time this
week, on a day they were transferring a new prisoner in. Commander Jenkins, the
senior nurse, was going to be pissed with her. Again.
She researched her speech in her head as she hurried. Her slender fingers fought
with the frog fastening on her collar, trying to get the damn thing done up. It had
always hated her, but today it was being more awkward than normal. Just like her alarm clock, which had decided to wake her up an hour later than normal. Why, she
had no earthly clue. It seemed everything aboard this damn ship had it in for her.
She hissed with relief as the fastener snapped closed. Which only prompted the
single bar of her rank, second-class crewman, to jump from her collar in a lemming leap
for the floor.
"Oh no. You bastard thing!"
She made a dive for it, grabbing the thin bar of metal and starting to straighten just
as she reached a corner. Preoccupied, she didn't look where she was going and
completely missed the armed retinue coming the other way. She ran straight into them.
Squeaking, she grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on. A male chest. A
broad, extremely well-muscled male chest. She grabbed at his gray ship-suit and fought
for balance.
She wasn't going to fall. There were few things more embarrassing than landing on
her ass in front of a group of people. She was not going there under any circumstances,
even if that meant touching up a complete, and incidentally very nicely put-together,
stranger.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry." Flames licked her cheeks as she looked up. Right into
gorgeous green eyes. Oh my, green eyes. Why did it have to be green eyes?
Everything happened at once. The group around her snapped into life, and within a
heartbeat, Samara had rifles pointed at her from all directions. Rifles attached to some
very mean-looking marines. Instinctively she shrank closer to her green-eyed "rescuer".
"Miss, I need you to step away. Just step away from him. Come on, miss…now.
Please."
The nearest marine lowered his rifle and held out his hand. The tone of his voice
and the expression on his face were both near pleading. Like he was trying to talk a
jumper down from the edge of a rooftop.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone