Aquarian Awakenings - A Collective Saga Sci-Fi Romance Page 3
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Nicole’s years of successful negotiations had trained her well. She knew exactly how the first impressions of the evening should unfold, from the way she held her eyes to the subtle tilt of her smile. As her team materialized, she and her compatriots stood still, with welcoming smiles on their faces, then slowly looked around the room. Every person there should have the opportunity to warm with the thought that she had personally seen them and acknowledged their presence.
Shortly would come the exhausting part, where she would actually try to meet and talk with each person, if only for a few minutes. One never knew which person was somehow related to the negotiating team members and which moment of kindness would bring about spectacular results. It was all necessary for the success of the event.
As she stepped down from the podium she willed herself to move slowly, to focus on each encounter, to not let her thoughts wander. People could often sense if she was paying attention or if her mind drifted to other, personal musings. She included the wait-staff and the local guards in her gentle greetings. Every person there deserved to be included. For example, in that corner -
Nicole’s breath caught, and time stood still.
A tall, well-built man in his early thirties was standing across the room. His hair was dark brown and neatly trimmed, and he wore the formal, black uniform of the Collective military. He stood amongst a group of similarly attired crewmates, talking with an older gentleman.
In many ways, he was identical to the countless other Collective officers who filled the hall. The black boots, the toned body, the alert stance, the carefully-pressed attire … but it was his eyes which transfixed her. He was a good distance from her, a part of the crowd, and yet she was sure she recognized those tawny eyes. Eyes which she had first seen a full thousand years ago. Eyes which had watched over her while she wailed in anguish. Eyes which had protected her through bloody battles where they were outnumbered thirty to one.
Eyes which were the window to the soul …
His head turned, and he stared right at her.
Her breath caught at the impact of his attention. Warmth flushed down her skin, tracing its way to her very toes. A yearning poured through her -
She forced her gaze to the floor, taking in a long, deep breath, castigating herself for her lack of composure. She had known he would be present tonight. All her research, all her countless years of fruitless searching, of false hopes and fresh starts, had at long last brought her here. Her entire life had prepared her for this one evening.
Was he truly Nathan?
Richard glanced over. “You all right, Nicole?”
She gave him a wry smile. It was hard to say the words. “If it is him, he doesn’t seem to remember us.”
His gaze gentled. “We knew that. Give it time.”
Time.
She drew in a breath. Time was running out. It was why they had pushed forward the negotiations. Why they had ensured that Commander Jon Paxton would be available to attend this meeting. So they could meet. So they could try to …
Richard’s brow creased. “Nicole?”
She gave herself a shake. She had work to do. And Jon – as much as she craved to go directly to him, to shake him hard and somehow force him to regain his memories – must wait for now.
She ran a hand through her thick hair.
She had thought she was prepared for this first encounter.
Apparently not.
She drew in a long, deep breath. The negotiations, while in part an excuse to allow the longed-for first meeting with Jon, were still critical in their own right. The millions of inhabitants of the two planets deserved her careful attention. It was time to get back to work.
She looked around the large hall, her diplomatic personae sliding back into place. Rule number one in the initial greeting process - never reveal any preferences. No person she met should ever feel less important than any other.
She forced herself to smile. The evening would be a long one. Surely at some point during the long, interminable process she would find time to be alone with Jon. Then she could gaze into those eyes again, seek to fall within them, and try to discern if at last, at long last, he could be the one.
The reincarnation of her dearest love.
She raised her gaze to the next dignitary before her, a violet-haired, six-limbed Luxoid, his full body suit compensating for his frail skeletal structure which had developed in a far weaker gravity. She gave him her fullest smile. These pre-signing days both excited and drained her. They were part of why she and her crew remained out on the fringes of the galaxy for months on end. The isolation helped her feel fresh and new for these meetings – and the quiet was a much needed solace once she had been wrung dry by the participants.
Without speaking, her four crew members spread out in a flanking position as she slowly worked her way through the crowd. There were always minor incidents at these gatherings. Sometimes an over-enthusiastic, inebriated admirer. Sometimes a passionate individual opposed to the purpose of the truce.
Fortunately for her, her team was not just skilled. They were finely honed over a thousand years. And each man would give his life before they would allow her to be hurt.
They were long past being separate individuals. With all they had been through, with all they had faced together, the men were now a part of her. They moved as she did; they anticipated her every intention.
They knew what this night meant to her.
Time trickled by in a slow but steady progression of textbook diplomacy. There were over-effusive greetings. Vague discussions which could signify anything at all, when seen from different points of view. Shifting gazes. The volumes which remained unsaid.
She was skilled in a thousand variants of gentle retractions as she extricated herself from one conversation so she could move along to the next.
And always her team watched … watched …
Richard stepped in, offering her a glass of water. He turned to the blue-skinned aquoid who had monopolized her attention for longer than his share. Richard shrugged in apology. “I’m afraid I need to talk with Nicole for a moment. You’ll understand, I’m sure.”
The aquoid had no choice but to flutter in agreement.
Nicole smiled in thanks at Richard as she took a long sip of the water. He was all she could want in a second-in-command. He was capable, insightful, and patient. His sense of the rhythm of the flow was impeccable.
Some of the gossips in the Collective saw only Richard’s short, blond hair and lean build. They murmured with raised eyebrows about how close Nicole’s team was. But they could never know how she longed only for Nathan … longed to find him … to look into those eyes …
Another group of diplomats. Another discussion about planetary ecology and trade routes.
Another turning of the clock …
Delicately prying herself loose from a garrulous, winged, beetle-like diplomat with a passion for flirting, Nicole turned and started in surprise. She gave a genuine smile. “Captain Smythe,” she warmly greeted the weathered man with pleasure. “Marcus! It’s been so long. How are your truffle recipes progressing?”
Captain Smythe puffed up with the personal attention and gave Nicole a fatherly hug. “Nicole, it has been too long,” he smiled in return. “I have numerous new items I am sure you will adore. I have just perfected a variety that involves a chocolate orange liqueur filling. It is both delicate and full of flavor. I had wondered if you would remember them.”
Nicole’s smile widened. “As if I could forget, Marcus. That week on the space station was transformed from a tedious paperwork hell into an Eden of delight solely because of your presence.” Her eyes twinkled. “When I find myself in similar circumstances, I often fantasize that you will appear.”
Marcus blushed under the praise and quickly introduced his crew which stood in a group behind him. Nicole smiled and politely greeted the doctor, the military advisor, the helmsman, the science officer, and then …
It was him.
She could barely breathe. She was transfixed by that tawny stare.
Could it be him?
Her heart thundered against her ribs; only years of negotiation experience helped her to mitigate her response. She heard Marcus mention his name, Jon. Commander Jon Paxton.
She willed herself to focus. She could not lose him now.
Jon. That is what he is called in this life.
She willed herself to take a deep breath.
Jon slowly reached out a hand to take hers. He gently brought his lips down to it for a formal kiss. Holding her hand in his, he murmured in the Hun language,
“Many years I sought your gaze –
Yet when I see you again,
It is as if we had never parted.”
The room dissolved around Nicole; only Jon and she remained. She found fascination in the texture of his fingers where they tenderly wrapped around her own. She inhaled the rich musk of his cologne. It was nearly impossible to take in. She had been seeking him … desperate … almost without hope …
After all these years …
Jon’s mouth quirked in a wry smile.
“I heard you were a woman of many words,” he teased with a soft chuckle.
Nicole struggled to find her voice. “That verse – it is from an ancient collection of the Hun planet. Why did you choose that one to greet me?”
Jon’s eyes sparkled. “I did some research on your group before we arrived,” he explained. “Your official bio said that you spoke Hun, as did your crew. I had always been drawn to that culture’s code of loyalty. The poem was one of my favorites. I hope I did not offend you.”
She dared to voice her deepest hopes. “The poem was beautiful. But … you said It is as if we had never parted. Do you believe we have met?”
Jon’s face eased to soft crimson. “Not that you would remember, I am sure.”
Her heart hammered hard against her ribs. “Go on.”
His gaze held hers. “It was when I first arrived at the Academy with my parents.”
Aching loss coursed through Nicole, and it was only through her centuries of diplomatic training that she held her face steady.
He did not remember her. Not past this one ephemeral lifetime.
Still, he had said they met at the Academy. That seemed highly unlikely; she and her team had never attended. She was curious now. “Please, go on. You were newly arrived at the Academy?”
He nodded. “My family and I were walking across the main green. I looked across the quadrangle and happened to see you and your crew moving along with the Academy Chairman.”
A small smile rose on Nicole’s lips. Ah, yes. She remembered, now. They had been there briefly, to ensure their position in the Collective fleet.
She looked to Jon. “We stood out so clearly, even as a brief glimpse across a courtyard? Why?”
Jon looked as if he would not continue, but under her gaze he spoke in a softer tone. The world fell away, and it was as if he were revealing a close-kept secret, one held within for long years. “I stopped in my tracks. There was something about you all, something ineffable. I felt a poignant sense of … of loss, I suppose.”
He looked down at her hands. “I took a step to go over and talk to you, but you were moving toward the main offices. My parents tugged me in the opposite direction, urging me to hurry to the dorm area before I missed the presentation.”
His eyes seemed distant. “There was a small man at the back of the group. I remember distinctly his shock of unruly blond hair. He turned at that moment and caught me staring after you. He stopped, winked at me, and then turned to rejoin you.”
His voice went hoarse. “And then you were gone.”
Nicole wanted to look away, but she was transfixed by the focus in Jon’s look. “That man, that … that was Christopher,” she murmured, her voice tight. “He …”
Her voice faded as the memories swept in on her.
Jon gave her hand a squeeze. “Yes, I know,” he offered. “He died a number of years ago, on one of your missions. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Nicole was lost in his gaze … a gaze she knew so well, and hope rose … rose …
A round, squat, scale-skinned man in a garish sapphire version of the Collective uniform eagerly muscled his way between the two, breaking apart their hands. Nicole saw the sharp flash of anger in Jon’s eyes – a glint that she doubted any others in the room were aware of. For immediately came the powerful clamping down of control as he imposed self-discipline on his feelings.
She remembered well his amazing mastery of his emotions; his ability to maintain calm in any situation.
If he truly were Nathan …
Longing grew within her, and with it her fury with Zaggat at destroying her first meeting with Jon. Zaggat was callously ripping apart a moment she had dreamed about – desperately hoped for - for so many long, lonely years.
Zaggat barely looked at Jon as he came to a stop before her. He glared up at her with heated frustration.
“Nicole. There you are. You must come with me immediately – I need you to talk with the Ambassador from Chillia. They have an issue they need to address.” Zaggat’s sharp eyes skewered hers, and he held out a pudgy hand to motion her down into the center of the maelstrom.
The noise and the press of the crowd swelled in on Nicole. She found it hard to draw in a breath.
How could Zaggat even think -
Jon’s brow creased into a frown. He took a step forward as if he would interfere on her behalf.
Reason regained its hold in Nicole’s mind. She gently put up her hand to indicate Jon should hold back. The last thing she needed was to embroil Jon in a confrontation before they had even begun to truly talk.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stephen had also taken a step forward, his dark curls framing a growling countenance. By the fires in his gaze, Zaggat might be lucky to leave the hall with his thick limbs still attached to his torso. Nicole’s eyes twinkled at the thought – but she flashed Stephen a subtle signal. She would handle this.
Turning to Jon, she drew a smile onto her lips. She asked, “Is it true that you play an instrument?”
Jon’s eyes widened in surprise at this change of topic. “Yes, certainly, I play the saxophone,” he confirmed. “I have for many years.”
Nicole nodded. “Make sure you tune it up before tomorrow night,” she requested with a soft smile.
She wanted to stay with him … to stay …
She gave in to protocol. Acquiescing to Zaggat’s prodding arm, she reluctantly moved with him into the roiling crowd.