Breeding Ground Part 3

"Yes, I know."

Alex's cheeks went up in flames as she rolled over onto her belly. She knew it was long past time to let Robert go. He had been a good man, a good husband, and a good scientist. But he was dead. Fifteen hundred years dead and buried. It was time to let go.

The period for mourning had long since pa.s.sed. Robert would have understood. She needed to concentrate all of her energies on keeping her crew alive when they reached Earth, not on raging against the fates for what could never again be.

"Would you like me to lie beside you while you sleep, Dr. Frazier?" Marax asked in a monotone.

Alex's nostrils flared at the injustice of it all. She missed pa.s.sion and emotions and love-and the comfort of falling asleep in the arms of someone who wanted her to be there.

Let go, Alex, she told herself. Let Robbie go...

"Yes," she whispered, giving in to the momentary weakness, to the desire to have skin-to-skin contact. She deserved it, she supposed. Once they stepped foot off of the Methuselah there would be no room for indulging in weakness. She didn't know what her crew would be facing out there, only that it would take her full concentration and force of will.

"Yes," she repeated, her voice a murmur. "I'd like you to lie beside me."

"You belong to me, Alexandria," he quietly hissed. "Offer yourself to me. Beg for my seed."

"Never," she choked out, her heart pounding. Tied naked to the huge bed, her thighs spread wide open, she knew what was coming next. Her entire body shook, fear engulfing her.

She had gotten out of the cage, but she wanted freedom.

Where are my men? Where are you? Help me!

"Look at me."

Oh no-please! Not again. Not this again! She wouldn't look at him-at it. Not now. Not ever.

"Look at me."

Her nostrils flared at the angry, harsh command. Never.

A forked tongue snaked itself around either side of her c.l.i.t. It began rubbing-slow, sensual movements that made her nipples jut up on a gasp.

"Mmmm," he purred, the sound reverberating in the back of his throat. "I think I'll help myself to more of your cream..."

"Incoming debris. Incoming debris. Incoming debris..."

Phariz's warning sounded repeatedly over the intercom. Alex jumped out of bed, Marax forgotten as quickly as the droid always forgot her upon exiting her cabin.

Why do I keep dreaming about that...that-thing? Shaking off the last remnants of the nightmare she'd been subjected to while asleep, she threw on her uniform and raced down the north corridor toward Work Pod 1.

"Incoming debris. Incoming debris. Incoming debris..."

It was impossible to gauge the seriousness of the situation from the droid's tone of voice. Whether announcing the time of day on earth or the fact that the crew was facing death, her monotone was always the same.

"Incoming debris. Incoming debris. Incoming debris..."

"What do we got?" Alex shouted out to Peac.o.c.k as she dashed toward where he was seated.

"Asteroids," Dr. Nielson answered for him since Lt. Williams was busy flying the s.p.a.cecraft. John was standing behind Peac.o.c.k, taking readings from over his shoulder. "And lots of them."

"s.h.i.+t."

"You got that right," Peac.o.c.k murmured as he maneuvered them through the asteroid belt. Sweat was breaking out all over his face. "This doesn't look good, Alex."

"John?" she asked as she fell into the seat next to him. "Talk to me, Dr. Nielson."

"Millions of pieces," he muttered. "Maybe even billions. They're big as h.e.l.l, Alex. And they're moving at an astounding rate. I've never seen anything like this."

Apparently not, Alex thought, her heart rate picking up. This was the first time in two years Peac.o.c.k had been obliged to steer the craft for reasons other than to practice so he could stay well-honed at the craft. The autopilot had been able to successfully maneuver them from all other potentially tricky spots.

"It's not natural," Vlad announced in a heavy Russian accent as he ran into Work Pod 1. His breathing was labored. "My readings show that this phenomenon is not the likely result of natural means."

Alex's face remained stoic, but her insides were screaming. "A nuclear explosion maybe? Like a war?"

"Da. Yes."

Alex's gaze locked with John's. "f.u.c.k," he whispered.

Her thoughts exactly.

"How long ago?" Alex asked. "Any conjecture?"

"Elinor thinks roughly three hundred years in Earth time," Vlad announced as he scanned the technical reports he'd printed out back in Work Pod 2. "That would have made the year-let me do the math..."

Alex nodded. Her teeth sank down into her lower lip.

Vlad looked up. His eyes were wide. "2792," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

The date of Armageddon.

Silence.

"What are we going to do, Alex?" John murmured.

Think, Alex, think...

"Keep us on course for Earth, Peac.o.c.k," she whispered.

"There probably is no Earth left!" John growled as he surged to his feet. "You'll kill us all, commander!"

Alex's nostrils flared. "We're dead anyway if we don't return," she gritted out, surging to her feet. "Think rationally, doctor. This s.p.a.cecraft is manned for two and a half years max. One way or another we could die. This, frightening as it is for all of us, is the only way we stand a chance."

John began to pace as he swore under his breath. He looked like a caged animal, his hands briskly running through his dark, wavy hair.

"You know she's correct," Vlad said quietly to John. His voice was firm if a bit shaky. "We can't survive without either refueling or decompressing. Check with Phariz on the probability if you so desire, but I'm willing to venture that the chance of surviving after decompressing on Earth is far greater than the chance of finding a s.p.a.ce station that hasn't been blown to bits to refuel on."

"f.u.c.k!" John swore, still pacing.