Page 9 of Stealing the Star Stone

Chapter Five

Tarnis’ Messis Station

My plan’s working.

Nova was torn. Thorne had acted the perfect gentleman and almost childlike in his eagerness to try tea.

That he didn’t like her favorite didn’t bother her, but his charm had.

She could almost like him. Squeezing her crossed arms tighter, she willed herself to find nothing appealing about him. The man had broken her young heart.

His pale face alarmed her, but after the last comment that she needed to ‘behave,’ he could faint and lie there in a pool of his vomit.

At least he’d paid for the day’s activities.

That was her plan and the only reason she hadn’t left his ass in Orbit & Oolong.

So far, meeting the infamous Arell had been a highlight.

And agreeing to seeing this artefact was more to get Mr. Rich-Ass to pay for her research than the desire to spend alone time with Eli Thorne.

The pod slowed when it approached the welcoming center, touching down on a cushion of air. She chanced a glance at her charge, half-expecting him to be green at the gills. Only to whip her focus away.

The ass looked too good: his cheeks glowing with warmth, his sparkling green eyes appearing to reflect the lush farmlands around them.

Noise slammed into her the instant the pod doors opened. People milled about, mothers screaming at their wayward children, and someone even had a pet dog at their heels. A station-sec yelled at a few youngsters banging on the glass walls of the center.

Flashing lights of the paparazzi made her hesitate. “Ready to run?” she asked Thorne.

He grimaced, sliding on his sunglasses, then tugging his coat around him.

His perfect hair tumbled over his forehead in an all-too-familiar style.

Thankfully, many men had followed the trend he’d set.

She led a path around the edges of the crowds, not wanting to cut a swath down the middle.

When they neared, a sec-guard raised his head, studied Thorne, then gestured them to enter.

“Welcome,” he mumbled. “We were warned you might attend. Lord Vex Orien will be pleased.”

“Who?” Nova asked Thorne when they entered the gallery. The cacophony dampened the deeper they ventured into the quiet confines of art and muted conversations.

“How should I know?” He ushered her past a couple, a hand at her back.

She’d swear his touch scorched her through her coat and uniform. Madness, that’s where her thoughts had gone.

“Eli Thorne, what a pleasure.” A silver-haired and bearded man strode toward them, wearing an authentic, black-pearlescent leather jacket. He held a glass of champagne in one hand. What impressed Nova was the diamond-studded blaster at his hip when no weapons were allowed planetside.

Thorne flicked off his sunglasses and beamed at the man, his hand already extended for a shake. “The pleasure is mine.”

“I’m Lord Orien. Welcome to my exhibition. I’m always on the hunt for new benefactors. Xenology is expensive work, y’know, and finding such treasures isn’t for the faint-hearted. Curious about my artefact?” the man mused.

“I am indeed.” Thorne hitched a thumb behind him. “The station-sec told me about it, and I must admit, it piqued my interest.”

“We’re taking it on a tour of the galaxy, hoping to trigger a reaction from it and the general public.

Like I said, finding donors is always a blessing.

Studies have only revealed its genetic make-up, not its purpose.

” He led Thorne to the atrium of the gallery where an illuminated plinth took centerstage.

Upon it sat a rainbow-colored stone twice the size of Nova’s head. Strange hexagonal and beveled markings were carved into the smooth rock. There were no slips or cracks along the grooves—whoever made those had a steady hand. Whatever it was, it had so much unknown potential.

She eyed it, searching for a flicker of life like a spark or an embryo. “You’ve just put it on a stand? In the open? What if it’s a bomb of some sort? It’s alien, right?” She faced Lord Orien, unable to keep the censure from her voice.

He scowled, giving her a once-over that implied he found her lacking. “It is safe, having thoroughly been tested. The natives claim it’s a fertility idol.” He stroked the surface, the rings on his long fingers gleaming in the bright light. His gaze took on a manic gleam. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“But you think it’s something more?” Thorne asked.

“Touch it,” Orien urged. “It resonates at a frequency of thirteen hertz. Why, we don’t know yet.”

Nova tried to snatch Thorne’s hand away. “This is madness.”

Orien shoved between them, keeping them apart. “If you don’t behave, I’ll have security escort you out.”

Thorne hesitated then pressed a fingertip to the stone. “It’s warm,” he whispered. “Nova, try this.”

“No, thanks.” She came around to the other side of him, hoping to rush him out the door. “Your ten minutes are up.”

“It’s like silk,” Thorne mumbled, pressing his fingers to the artefact, “and these marks… I can’t feel them.”

“Indeed,” Orien chuckled, but leveled a glare at her.

“They’re on the surface yet not detectable by any other sense but sight.

Despite the tests we’ve put this thing through, only the vibrations have been recorded.

We’ve blasted it with everything, from fire to electricity to water. Not even sunlight has an effect on it.”

Nova studied the egg-shaped rock, it’s myriad of colors blurring into each other, and yet, if she peered deep into its heart, something lay just beyond her understanding.

Shapes or words she couldn’t decipher. They seemed familiar though.

She didn’t know when she’d decided to stretch out her hand, but the stone’s heat soaked into her fingers almost mirroring the placement of Thorne’s.

“Who said you could touch?” Orien demanded. “Only those I invite can meet my stone.”

A spark pulsed into her. She gasped, trying to wrench away. She couldn’t budge.

“Um, a little help?” Panic gripped her voice. She glanced at Thorne, only to find him in the same predicament.

“What… What have you done?” Orien squeaked, yanking on them both to no avail.

The pretty colors leached out, like the emptying of a water tank. The rock became transparent, and that strange tingling intensified.

“Security,” Orien hollered. “You!” He pointed at Nova. “This is your doing. Nothing happened when Eli and I touched it.”

Nova gawked at him. “Are you insane?” she asked, her mind reeling. “And getting me arrested is so clever when my hand’s stuck to your stupid rock.”

Orien’s face mottled. He unsheathed his blaster, murder in his eyes. “The stone’s not stupid. Do you have any idea how many years of my life I’ve spent trying to find something this worthwhile? It’s my…legacy.”

Nova blinked at him, not knowing what to say to that load of bullshit. “Well, Lord Orien, your legacy has me locked to it.”

At that moment, the artefact’s last bit of color faded.

It shattered, sending shards of crystalized stone everywhere.

She flew back from the blast, flung away by an unseen power.

Along the polished floor she slid, hitting people’s feet before slamming into a wall.

Pain radiated outward, her head throbbing, her chest tight.

It wouldn’t surprise her if she’d cracked a rib.

Thorne was on the floor on the opposite side with Orien dancing between them. His arms were raised in what looked like a rain dance.

That was silly. She giggled, hysteria bubbling to the surface. Tarnis used aqueducts from the planet’s vast lakes.

“See how she laughs. This mad woman destroyed my star stone,” Orien babbled. “I want her arrested, questioned, find out what she did, how.”

Two burly men approached, their black clothes and aura menacing. When station-sec hoisted her to her feet, she offered them a grateful smile. Going with them seemed the safest.

“Eli, do you know her?” Orien asked, fury twisting his features.

Thorne stared at her, then without blinking, said, “A nobody.”

Horror sealed Nova’s throat. Pain not from the fall consumed her mind, and she let the guards lead her away.

Her ears rang, a deafening roar that mimicked the tingling in her fingers.

It was minutes later before the realization of her situation sank in.

By then, she was in a service pod on her way to jail, no doubt.

“What happened?” she asked no one. “Like I knew his stone would break?” She shifted on the spot and faced the closest guard. ‘J. Newman’ in gold stated his name. “I get a call, right?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Good.” She’d reach out to the captain. He had to help her unravel what the hell she’d done to deserve this treatment.

But what she truly wanted to do was throw Thorne’s belongings off the Valiance and leave him stranded.

And to do that, she needed to get to the captain first. Thorne with his silly charm and bewitching eyes would claim this was her fault.

Newman pulled on her arm, ushering her into station-sec’s central base.

“Now what?” the desk guard asked. “We’re full. Damn gallery has ruined my morning.”

“Bill them,” Newman said. “This one gets her own cell.”

“And I’m supposed to find that where? Up my ass?” The man punched his console, moaned, then pointed at any loitering guards. “Go, shift prisoners. I want C7 cleared.” He glanced around the crowded control room then settled a beady gaze on her. “Whatya do, little lady? Kill someone? Steal anything?”

“Broke the artefact.” Newman nudged her forward.

“Shit,” the desk guard muttered. “A murder would’ve been preferable. Lord Orien’s not going to let you off with a hand slap.”

“Saw the whole thing go down, Sarg,” Newman said, his tone casual. “She touched it, and the colors vanished. It’s now worthless shards of glass.”

“Pieces? No gluing it back together?” Sarg harumphed then settled a sad gaze on her. “Mm, the way Orien’s so gung-ho researching this thing, I’d hazard a guess you’re his next guinea pig.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. No words came to mind.

“I thought so too when his goons loomed, ready to kidnap her.” Newman puffed out his chest. “She broke the stone, and justice will be served.”

Sarg confirmed her identity, as provided by the docking system. She tapped the edges of the metallic counter, then took a moment to sanitize her hands while shifting from foot to foot.

“Can I call my captain, please?” she asked. “This is a misunderstanding. Why would my touch break the stone? Thorne was touching it, too.”

Sarg nudged his head at the comm device mounted to the wall. “Get your things in order, miss. You could be staying here for a time.”

She weaved through the masses, pressed her thumb to the screen, then when it flickered her identity number, she mumbled Captain’s full name.

He answered within two rings. “Nova, sweetheart, you okay?”

“Got arrested,” she said, her tone devoid of emotion. More like stunned disbelief. An hour ago, she’d been drinking tea.

“What? You didn’t kill Eli, did you?”

Oh, she wanted to. Fury curled her fingers into fists, and she pressed them to the cool wall on either side of the device. “It’s…worse.”

Captain huffed. “There’s no sin more abominable than—”

“Some lord is claiming I destroyed his artefact.” She snorted.

Silence met her statement. By that, she had to assume Captain had heard of the incident.

“Has bail been set?” he finally asked, his voice strained.

She arched a brow at Newman hovering beside her. He shook his head.

“No,” she said.

“Shit,” Captain said, and that man never cursed. “I’ll talk to Thorne—”

“I’d rather rot here than accept any help from that asshole,” she spat.

“Now, now, Nova. He’s the richest man we know.”

“I don’t care. He denied knowing me, told Orien I was just another groupie.” Her face flushed, and she pressed her temple to the screen’s cool surface. “Take the ship, head to Artivar. On your return voyage, you can fetch me. This…bullshit should be sorted out by then.”

“I’m not—”

“Marco,” she said, going serious with the use of his name. “They could do a full investigation. It was years ago, but they might just make you pay for it again.”

Silence stretched on, so long that she checked the call was still connected.

“Yes, you’re right. My…past might complicate things for you.”

“Take the Honor , too. We can’t afford to replace it.” She heaved a deep breath. “Docking bay Bravo Vector Two.”

“Gotcha. Need any of your things?”

“No,” she said. “They’re safer with you. I’ll get these charges dropped. The gallery has to have security footage. That should clear my name.” Oh, Lord, she hoped so. When credits were involved, a not-so-decent judge could be bought.

“What about Thorne?”

“He can go to hell for all I care,” she snapped.

“He’s my passenger. We don’t get paid—”

“I know. You can deal with him without me. And you can forget about me escorting him anywhere ever again.” So much for best laid plans.

She hung up and faced Newman.

“Do you need medical attention?” he asked, gesturing to her torn coat and blue-stained fingers.

She blinked at the color inking her skin.

It didn’t hurt or tingle anymore, so she supposed that was a good thing.

She’d say it followed the lines of her veins, but no, some twirled, others curled, almost in a floral pattern.

It could be toxic, slowly killing her, but with exhaustion pummeling her, she’d care about it later.

“I’m well,” she managed, fisting and opening her hands. If she wasn’t in shock, she’d almost believe the blue was spreading toward her palm and wrist.

“You ready, miss?” he asked, his brown eyes kind…like Captain’s. And Seth’s.

“Yes.” She trailed him along cells packed to the max, faces peering at her through the white shimmering force fields. Close enough and they could shave the hair off her arms. More than that and she’d lose a limb. A decent deterrent.

Newman touched a panel, pressed his thumb to it, and the shimmer vanished, making her realize it had hummed.

Without his instruction, she stepped into the cell, the scent of fresh mint in the air. Well, at least they sterilized. And after what she’d been through, the bench carved into the wall would suit for a quick nap.

But an hour later, she lay there, staring at the cool, unfeeling lights. No solution came to mind, and every time she replayed the scene, anger bubbled up like a well of lava.

If she ever got out, Thorne would pay.