The Search Is Over (Operation Bliss 4)
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Copyright ©2013 Cynthia Sax
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Captain Zahara stood on the bridge of the Bliss, facing the main viewscreen, her hands clutched behind her back and her shoulders unrelentingly straight.
She was facing the crisis of her career. An alien male had spread a virus throughout her ship -- and having an orgasm was the only cure. Her crewmembers had been reduced to animals, fucking for their lives. The virus had merely been a distraction. He wanted her. He'd always wanted her.
Zahara stared at the white planet looming in the distance -- a planet that had haunted her dreams since she'd been born.
He had haunted her dreams. He shouldn't exist. Her alien lover shouldn't be real. He was the destiny she'd been trained not to believe in, the destiny she'd tried to fight.
When, as a young child, she'd first told her father, the admiral, about the pale-skinned, blue-eyed, bald male appearing in her dreams, her father had sent her for cognitive reprogramming. The process had wiped her memories clean, erasing the only remaining images of her deceased mother.
It hadn't stopped the dreams.
Every time after that, when she'd talked about the alien, about her destiny, she'd been placed in solitary confinement and bombarded repetitively with the message that her visions weren't real, that she couldn't trust her own mind. She'd quickly learned to remain silent.
When she'd been caught at the tender age of sixteen universal solar orbits stowing away on a cross-system freighter, seeking to locate her alien, she'd endured shock treatment and nearly died. Zahara had grown to associate her pale male with pain.
His attack on her ship reinforced her view. In her dreams, he might be passionate, loving, even kind, but in her reality, he hurt her again and again.
She'd stop the pain. She'd stop him.
"VI, open transmission," Zahara ordered, needing her father's advice. This scenario was outside any recorded Galactic Alliance case study and not covered in any rulebook. She had been taught not to trust her own judgment.
"Transmission is currently unavailable, Captain," the ship's robotic voice recited.
Her alien male must have blocked outbound communications. She folded her fingers into fists, irritated and impressed with his abilities. "VI, record a message to be sent to the admiral." The message would force her to rationalize her decision, taking the emotion from the process.
"Recording a message to be sent to the admiral is not possible, Captain. Only temporary storage is available, and all the messages are scheduled to be purged before transmission abilities resume."
"Override the purge instructions, VI. All the message will be retained unless instructed by myself." The Bliss was her ship, not the alien's.
"Override is not possible, Captain," the ship relayed. "You do not have the authorization for that command."
"I don't have authorization? The Bliss is my ship." Zahara pressed her lips together, smothering a curse. "VI, display the last coordinates relayed to Galactic Alliance."
VI complied, displaying the coordinates on the main viewscreen, and Zahara groaned. The last coordinates were relayed several quadrants from their present location. "We're on our own. They don't even know which quadrant we're in."
She was on her own. Her officers were loyal. They'd risk their lives to protect her. Zahara couldn't allow that. She'd sent them on fabricated rescue missions, choosing to face her alien male alone. The bridge was eerily empty, the seats vacant and the consoles clear.
Zahara palmed a gun and slid the lever on the barrel to the stun setting. She needed the alien alive to help her stop the virus outbreak, to give her back full command of her ship. She pivoted on her booted heels, positioned herself in front of the main doors, and waited.
He was close. She felt his proximity, her pussy moistening and her nipples tightening, her breasts pressing against the soft fabric of her flight suit. Zahara raised her gun and aimed the muzzle at the entrance to the bridge.
The doors slid open with a hiss. The alien's pale body blurred, his speed remarkable and his tread soundless. She pressed the trigger again and again, following him around the bridge. Blasts of blue energy snapped and crackled in the air, the smell of sulfur hanging in the small space.
Warmth brushed against her fingers, and her gun was knocked out of her hands. The weapon clinked on the metal floor.
"Why are you fighting me, my other?" The alien's deep voice curled her toes. "I am your destiny."
Zahara searched for the source and was unable to locate him. "You forced me to fight." She extracted another gun from the holster slung around her hips, and she slid the lever to stun. "You attacked my crewmembers."
"I freed your crewmembers." The words came from everywhere and nowhere, filling the space and echoing off the dark wall panels. "They were repressing their desires."
He skimmed his long fingers over her lips, leaving a trail of sensation on her skin. Zahara shot wildly and hit nothing. She saw no one, the alien unbelievably fast. Where is he? She licked her lips, tasting an intoxicating sweetness. An unnatural heat spread down her chest, heightening her unseemly desire.
He swept his palm across her ass. Zahara turned and shot at empty space. The energy sizzled and dissipated to nothing.
"Are you testing my fighting skills?" The alien chuckled, the sound reaching deep down inside Zahara, stimulating her. "I am worthy of you, Captain, and I will prove myself." Her gun flew into the air and landed with a clatter halfway across the bridge.
Stars. The alien's strength and speed was daunting. Zahara reached for the dagger strapped to her right thigh. The sheath was empty. She looked down, and her mouth dropped open. All her sheaths were empty. He'd stripped her of weapons, and she hadn't felt the disarming. "What do you want from me?" She heard the panic in her voice.
"You know what I want from you." His fingers flew over her breasts, teasing her nipples, and she trembled. "What I have always wanted from you."
With each fleeting touch he shredded her emotional defenses as easily as he'd removed her weapons. "You'll hurt me." She expressed her deepest fear.
"Never," her alien male vowed, and she wanted to believe him, but she trusted the past more than she trusted her judgment. "You are my other self. I would die rather than hurt you."
"Then you should be dead already," Zahara muttered, gazing around her for a possible weapon. A gun rested on the floor under one console. Could she retrieve it before he reached her?
"How did I hurt you?" The gun slid farther away.
How did he hear me? "What kind of creature are you?" She ignored his question, unwilling to give him more ammunition to harm her with.
"I am your creature." He stroked along her shoulders, the warmth easing some of her tension. "Your one."