LOGAN (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 5) Read online

Robin wasn't willing to give up that easily. "In that case, just point out where you'd like your tent to be and I'll see to it that it's set up. I have nothing else to do. The linens are all distributed."

  He finished setting the stake and stood up. "All right then." He looked around the area a moment. "I think it would be best if I were in the midst of the men. Any place you pick will be fine."

  Robin nodded and took a few steps away when he spoke again.

  "Robin? A moment please."

  She turned and faced him with a soft smile that she knew disarmed the average male.

  Geoffrey's gaze darted away from hers and he cleared his throat. "I, uh, was wondering if we should check on Tarla and McKay."

  Robin arched an eyebrow at him. "Check on them?"

  He covered his mouth and coughed as if it would help him get his words out. "Yes, um, I mean he seemed ill and I sensed some antagonism between them, and—"

  "And nothing, Major," Robin interrupted defensively. "Tarla is a dedicated nurse, who would take care of Attila the Hun if he was in pain. If anyone can get your bodyguard back at your side, it's her." She thought she saw Geoffrey's fair cheekbones darken and regretted her choice of words. "I'm sorry—"

  "It's quite all right," he said quietly. "I didn't make myself clear. I was concerned about your friend's welfare... being alone with him for such a long time."

  Now it was her turn to blush. "Oh. Well there's no need to worry. Tarla can handle the worst of them. And believe me, she has."

  "She does seem very capable."

  Robin laughed. "If the war had gone on any longer, she probably would have made general!" His smile seemed more genuine this time, so she hoped he had forgiven her rash comment. "Well, I guess I'll go see about your tent now." She walked away, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing he was watching her for several long seconds before getting back to work.

  * * *

  "Geoffrey!"

  He turned to see Tarla hurrying toward him. "What's wrong? Is McKay—"

  "No, no," she said waving her hand quickly. "He'll be fine, eventually. He has a bad migraine though and, from what he told me, without his medicine, it could last for days."

  "Days?"

  Tarla nodded. "But it's not necessary. Duncan gave me some medicinal powder they use for minor discomfort. He said that in cases where the powder isn't enough, the injured or sick person is sent to the fairies for treatment."

  "Yes. I was told the person goes into the barn and comes out cured, but with no recollection of how it happened."

  "Right. It also sounds like the fastest route to whoever's in control here. So, why not test it ourselves... with Sergeant McKay? Who knows how long it might be before someone else legitimately falls sick? And if someone is observing us, they would know he's truly ill."

  Geoffrey rubbed his chin. "If he was in good enough shape to defend himself, I wouldn't think twice about sending him into unknown territory, but under the circumstances..."

  "McKay already volunteered," Tarla said, putting a quick end to Geoffrey's vacillation. "In fact, as soon as I mentioned Duncan's fairies to him, he came up with the suggestion himself. Not only does he want to find out what's going on here, he said he'd try anything that might get rid of the migraine."

  The expression on Geoffrey's face made it clear that he hated having to make the decision but he did it anyway. "All right. I'll get McKay and help him to the barn while you find Duncan."

  Ten minutes later the four of them were standing in the open doorway of the tack room at the back of the huge barn.

  "How does it work?" Tarla asked Duncan.

  "He just goes inside, closes the door and tells them what's ailing him."

  "Tells who?" Geoffrey asked.

  Duncan almost looked exasperated. "The fairies, of course."

  "You mean you can see them when you're in there?"

  "No. They're invisible. Like the wall."

  "What if—" Logan pressed his temples to shut out the excruciating pain uttering those two words had caused. Taking a slow breath and maintaining the pressure, he tried again. "What if someone goes in with me?"

  Duncan shook his head. "They don't help the sick person unless he's alone and the door's locked tight from the inside." His smile faded as an old memory came to him. "Tried that myself once... a very long time ago."

  "Okay," Logan said, stepping into the room. "Let's get on with it."

  As Geoffrey and Tarla backed away, Duncan said, "Just throw the bolt on the door and say your problem out loud."

  "We'll wait for you right here," Geoffrey added.

  Although Logan thought the idea of telling a bunch of farm equipment that he had a migraine was completely ridiculous, he locked the door, turned around and voiced his complaint. When nothing happened immediately, he sat down on the floor to wait. It was all he could do to keep from closing his eyes but he didn't want to miss whatever was coming despite the pain.

  Several minutes later, a hissing sound, like the air being let out of a tire, drew his attention upward but it stopped before he could discern what had caused it.

  * * *

  The ping of the transmitter next to Nadia's bed surprised her. It was rare for her to receive a call in the evening. She touched the red button on the top of the small white box. "Hello?"

  "This is Simone in Observation."

  Nadia's attention perked up. "Yes?"

  "By coincidence, not long after you called, something occurred."

  Though she was tapping her fingernails impatiently on the table beside her, Nadia replied with only slight interest. "Can you tell me about it?"

  After a slight hesitation, Simone spoke again. "Not really. Too many ears, if you know what I mean. I get off in half an hour. Why don't you come by for a visit?"

  "That sounds fine. See you shortly." Nadia touched the red button again then bounded from the bed to her closet. She didn't bother to call Fulton to help her dress. She needed to hurry and he didn't know the meaning of the word.

  What could possibly have happened to prompt Simone's call so soon? She had called the woman earlier and requested that she be kept up to date regarding the new crossovers. Nadia had insinuated that there could be a problem that might reflect badly on Parisia and any small occurrence could be important. Fortunately, Simone was one of the women who believed that Nadia would eventually be in a position of great power, which could personally benefit her later, if she proved ingratiating enough in the meantime.

  Unfortunately, Simone was nearly as ambitious as Nadia herself, which could eventually become a problem, especially when Simone had a natural advantage. Nadia was tall, large-boned, dark-haired and mocha-skinned, with a prominent nose that openly proclaimed her hawk-like disposition. Simone was petite and fair with tiny ringlets of honey-colored hair framing an ivory, innocent face. She was femininity and grace personified, the ideal of every Heart woman.

  Nadia managed to reach the Observation Room as Simone was signing out for her break, but she still had to wait a few more minutes until they walked out of earshot of the relief operator.

  "One of the crossovers came in for medical treatment," Simone said in a conspiratorial tone even though no one was around.

  "Male or female?" Nadia asked in the same voice.

  "Male. Rather dangerous looking too."

  "Oh?" Nadia's interest increased another notch. "Can you describe him?" As soon as Simone began, Nadia was positive it was the same man she had been intrigued by that morning. "What was the problem?"

  "He said, 'migraine' and was holding his head. He did look uncomfortable."

  "Were normal procedures followed?"

  Simone nodded. "He was anesthetized and taken to the sanatorium. I happen to have a friend who's on duty there tonight. If you're interested, I'm sure she wouldn't mind filling us in on his condition and treatment."

  Nadia managed to conceal her excitement beneath an indifferent façade. "I have nothing better to do this evening."

  A
t the sanatorium, Simone's friend, Olympia, informed them that the man had a headache caused by a severe chemical imbalance in his brain and, though there was no way of determining what had caused it, the medic was able to correct the problem. She could not be certain however that the imbalance would not reoccur. As a precaution, vital signs and brain activity were being monitored for two more hours before returning him to the commune.

  "He is unconscious, isn't he?" Nadia asked.

  "Of course," Olympia replied.

  "Would it be possible for me to get a look at him?" Nadia asked as casually as possible.

  The woman pressed a key on the numerical board in front of her then turned the monitor toward Nadia and Simone.

  Nadia inhaled sharply as she stared at the screen. It was him, just as she suspected. "You were right, Simone. He does appear to be extremely dangerous."

  "There's no need to worry," Olympia said. "His room is completely secure."

  "Thank the suns for that," Nadia said, pretending to be greatly relieved. Actually she was racking her brain to come up with an excuse to get into that room. After her experiment with Fulton that afternoon, her curiosity about the Earth men was increasing by the hour. But no reasonable explanation came to her. After a few more seconds studying the shape of the man's body beneath the sheet, she had no choice but to leave unsatisfied.

  "Thank you for your help, Olympia. Perhaps I'll be able to return a favor one day in the future. Simone, I'll speak to you later." With a formal nod to each of the women, she headed back home.

  Somehow, she was going to gain possession of that man. Regardless of the danger he posed, she wanted him before the antidote completely stripped his masculine qualities. Based on his size and the dosage he should be consuming daily, she estimated she had two days at the most to come up with a viable scheme and implement it.

  After that, the scarred man would be as mellow and impotent as Fulton.

  Chapter 7

  The click of the bolt being pulled back on the tack room door instantly drew Tarla and Geoffrey to their feet. Robin, who had brought Tarla's uneaten dinner then stayed for the vigil, remained on the floor until Logan actually appeared.

  Tarla could see he felt better even before he spoke. His usual bored expression was back.

  "Headache's gone," Logan said as he walked up to them. "But I have no idea what happened to me."

  "Think, man," Geoffrey prompted. "There has to be something. You were in there for four hours."

  Logan shook his head. "I was awake and miserable one minute then I was waking up without a headache the next. I don't even remember falling asleep but I obviously did."

  "Any aftereffects?" Tarla asked.

  "No," Logan answered. "In fact, I feel like I just had a great night's sleep."

  Robin glanced at Tarla. "Maybe it's some kind of mind control."

  "Whatever it is," Geoffrey said, "we don't know anything more than we did before—that someone with advanced technology is in control here and this tack room is some sort of way-station between them and the farm."

  Logan frowned. "I think we can assume they're keeping tabs on us too. I'd say the first step should be to tear this room apart."

  "Right," Geoffrey responded. "Considering the number of mouths there are to feed, we'll have to continue to do a fair share of the work but a few less hands won't matter. In the morning, your team can concentrate on the barn. I'll put my team on examining the invisible wall."

  "And keep the women in the kitchen all day?" Robin asked in a falsely sweet tone. "I don't think so."

  Tarla spoke before Geoffrey could reply. "If I might make a suggestion, it might be best to rotate chores. Everyone's going to want to feel they're contributing to an escape plan."

  "Quite right," Geoffrey said. "Preparing a rotation schedule will be the first order of business in the morning."

  "With my help," Robin amended. "If that's okay with you, Tarla."

  Tarla gave the major a chance to object but he only cleared his throat. "That will be fine. Two heads are always better than one. And now, if I don't get a little sleep, I won't be much good for any kind of chore when the suns come up."

  The others agreed there was nothing more to be accomplished that night. As they walked out of the barn, a star-studded sky lit their path and the rustle of leaves was the only sound in the air. Everyone had apparently given in to fatigue. Just before they split up, Logan asked, "Could I have a word with you, Captain?"

  Tarla gave Robin a sign to give her a minute.

  "Come on, Geoffrey," Robin said with a smile. "I'll show you where I put your new home then I'll come back to guide Tarla to ours."

  Tarla grew tense the moment they walked away, leaving her alone with Logan. He hadn't made her nervous as long as he was incapacitated. Even though she now felt certain he was neither a murderer nor traitor, he was still a very large, dangerous man... with the ability to crush her heart with a few words. It seemed as though he sensed her nervousness for he just stood there looking at her, as if daring her to run away. She made herself stay perfectly still and meet his gaze. And when he stepped closer, it took all her courage to stand her ground and not show the slightest trace of fear.

  Slowly he extended his right hand toward her. "I just wanted to say thank you," he said in a low voice.

  It took her another moment to realize that he was only trying to shake her hand. By the time she did, he had withdrawn his hand and walked away. She hadn't meant to be rude. His gesture had simply been a shock. It was completely out of character for him to say thank you for anything.

  "Sergeant McKay?"

  He stopped without looking back at her.

  "You're very welcome."

  His response was a casual salute.

  "He's a strange one, isn't he?" Robin said coming up behind Tarla.

  Tarla turned and shrugged. "I didn't understand him when he was my patient either."

  For fear of disturbing anyone, they kept silent as Robin led the way to their tent. All of the women and most of the men were bunking two or three to a tent, partly for a sense of companionship and partly because there were only half as many tents as there were people. The caretakers must have assumed they would sleep in pairs. There was probably some sort of clue in that, but she was too tired to figure it out.

  A candle lantern burning inside the tent allowed Tarla to see what Robin had accomplished while she was with Logan. Their cots were made up and a few changes of clothes were stowed beneath each. Since they were relatively close to several other tents, they kept their voices to a whisper.

  After Tarla thanked Robin for setting them up, she said, "Considering the unreality of this whole situation, we're fairly well settled in."

  "Yeah. When we get back we can all send thank you notes to the Pentagon for training us to adapt so well."

  Tarla pulled off her shoes and examined one. It was stretchy, like a one-size-fits-all slipper sock, but the expandable sole was made of a harder, rubbery substance that was similar to the bottom of a sneaker. "Whoever our caretakers are, they're quite ingenious."

  "About some things," Robin amended. "About others, they're practically prehistoric. If they can heal a man with severe burns, why do they need to barter for food? Why have a semi-modern lavatory but a kitchen from pioneer days?"

  "Good questions. Now I have one for you. If the men we met today didn't have to work the farm or prepare food the old-fashioned way, what would they do all day?"

  Robin gave it some thought then said, "I think we can rule out socializing. They barely talk to each other. Maybe they'd just sit and stare at the green sky like a bunch of zombies."

  Tarla shook her head. "I don't know. They seem to take pride in working and no one I saw today tried to shirk their responsibilities. That in itself is odd."

  Robin laughed. "Yeah. That many men and not even one goof-off. Back to Higgs's theory that they're all androids."

  Tarla gave a sigh and sat down on her cot. "We'd better get some sleep whil
e we can."

  Robin blew out the candle and settled between the soft sheets. "Mmm. Maybe I'll get lucky and this will all turn out to be a weird dream."

  Tarla was certain she'd be asleep in seconds but she couldn't let go of her sudden ability to touch Logan's mind. Since she'd never been able to do that before, she assumed the skill would only awaken when she joined with her soul's mate. And since she had given up ever meeting that man, she hadn't expected it to happen at all. Thoughts of soulmates and joining always made her a little melancholy but there was nothing she could do to change the reality of her solitary life.

  She had never lacked for male companionship but none of the Noronian men she was attracted to ever triggered the mating fever. Time and time again, she would be hopeful only to be disappointed. Even her one, fairly long, committed relationship had ended in heartbreak. Since he wasn't Noronian, Nick Valentino could never have been her soulmate. But she had cared deeply about him and enjoyed his companionship for over a year... until he met the woman who captured his heart.

  Once she had passed the usual mating age without ever having experienced even a hint of the fever that supposedly would strike when she met the one, she finally gave up hope of ever encountering her elusive soulmate. Letting go of that hope suddenly allowed her to imagine a very different life in Outerworld and she'd gone after it with all her heart.

  Tarla had finally dozed off when several voices shouting obscenities broke the stillness outside. As she and Robin quickly pulled their shoes back on, she could tell both men and women were involved in a furious battle over something but the cause wasn't clear. They hurried outside at the same time everyone else did.

  At the center of the commotion, Wilkes and Lee Tang circled each other—her in an offensive fighting stance, him clearly defensive. On the ground, one of Wilkes's pals lay holding his crotch and moaning in pain. Standing guard over him was the beautiful Alicia Samples, and she looked furious enough to do him more damage if he dared to rise.

  "What goes on here?" Geoffrey shouted as he shoved his way through the crowd.

  "Stay out of this, limey," Wilkes growled. "The bitch wants to play rough and I'm gonna oblige her." He swung a meaty fist toward her face but she instantly blocked it with her left forearm and followed with a powerful right jab to his diaphragm. As his body folded forward under that blow, she spun around, leapt in the air and delivered a kick to his jaw that sent him sprawling beside his friend.