Chapter 2

Emmy entered her office and set an empty box on the edge of her desk. Brushing a stray curl of brown hair from her eyes, she turned and surveyed the room. Her new office on board the Icarus was everything she'd always dreamed of, with a comfortable dove-gray sofa and matching chairs for her counseling sessions and mellow ambient lighting. A meditation fountain trickled gently in the corner, and she'd even managed to get her hands on a potted plant of unknown species with long, greenish-blue fronds. If she didn't know better, she'd never guess they were on board a spaceship.

Her gaze settled on a shelf holding the small plush toys she'd brought with her when she'd fled Aleigh. These were the only things that were out of place. She picked up an orange and yellow octopus with soft, floppy tentacles, remembering one of her younger patients counting down fears on each of the creature's arms. She'd kept the toys as a reminder of her patients' successes, but it was becoming clear that her previous counseling methods had no use among the hardened members of the rebellion. Just yesterday, Rust had ripped the wings off her plush dragon before stalking out in anger.

She placed the octopus into the storage box and picked up a soft lavender netorpok with a long tail, tucking it into the box too. "You gotta go, guys. Sorry."

A hard knock on her office door interrupted her momentary nostalgia. Had Rust come back? Though he had obvious anger issues, she didn't think he'd ever hurt her, but she wasn't sure her poor stuffed animals were up for another visit. Voice tight, she called, "Come in?"

The door slid open to reveal Chigs, one of the denaidan fighters from Kashatok's crew. His braided hair brushed the top of the door frame, and he wore black pants and a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal the corded muscles beneath his coppery forearms. She'd only spoken to him in passing, but today a strange urgency had replaced his usual unsociability.

"Are you busy?" Uncertainty laced his deep voice.

"Not at all. What can I help you with, Chigs?" She moved around the desk to smile at the big denaidan male.

His copper eyes flickered from her to the remaining stuffed animals on her shelf. "Those are interesting totems."

Emmy blinked, surprised by his assumption. "They aren't totems. Just... toys. For comfort and therapy."

"Therapy?" Chigs raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled.

Emmy's cheeks warmed. He obviously had no idea what her profession was about. "I'm a psychologist. I help people understand their thoughts and feelings." She let out a breath. "Or at least I used to."

"My error," Chigs muttered, his cheeks flushing a deep blue green. "The way Mek refers to you, I thought you were, well…" He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Some sort of mystic."

Emmy's heart gave a pang at the mention of Mek's name. He'd been the latest in a string of heartbreaks that had made her swear off relationships. There was no relationship, Emmy, she chided herself. Mek had never returned her feelings, no matter how much she hoped he might. His heart had always been meant for another…

She shook off her current line of thinking. Chigs was here for her counsel, not to watch her wallow in regrets. Forcing a smile, she said, "No harm done. Is there something specific you'd like to talk about?"

Chigs took a single step forward so the door could slide closed behind him. "Can you interpret dreams?"

The intense way his copper eyes connected with hers made Emmy's breath catch in her throat. It felt like the room suddenly became a few degrees warmer. Why did all the denaidan rebels have to be so damn hot?

Get a grip, Emmy. She'd literally just reminded herself to keep it professional, and here she was, letting her hormones drag her around again.

She cleared her throat. "I'd be happy to listen and offer my insights." She gestured to the couch across from her. "Please, sit."

Chigs strode toward the seating area, the sheer size of his chiseled body making Emmy feel even more petite than usual. He sat with his back to the shelf of stuffed animals, knees apart in a way that seemed to dominate the space. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he stared at the floor for a moment.

Emmy sat in the chair opposite and waited for him to gather his thoughts. Waiting and silence were important parts of the psychological process, allowing the client to open up in their own time. But she was finding it difficult to keep her mind off the muscular breadth of his shoulders or the thickness of his massive thighs.

After another moment, Chigs leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I keep having a dream about a laboratory filled with denaidan women in cryopods."

Emmy's heart squeezed. Discovering that Syndicorp had been holding denaidan females captive for breeding—especially after everyone had assumed there were no females left—had been a horrific shock, especially for the denaidan males. She was surprised more crew members hadn't visited her office. "That's perfectly understandable," she said gently. "Dreams are often the subconscious mind's way of processing trauma. Talking about your feelings may help stop the nightmares."

Chigs's hands clenched into fists, knuckles bleaching under his burnished skin. "I don't need to stop the dreams. I need to focus on them so I can rescue those women." His gaze on hers intensified, the desperation in his eyes burning like twin copper lasers. "My mate is with them, I know it. Ellam Cua is trying to show me how to save her."

Now his question about her being a mystic made more sense—Chigs believed his dream was a vision from his god. "Chigs," she began cautiously, "I know dreams can feel incredibly real, but?—"

"You were in the dream," he interrupted. "You're the key to helping me interpret it. The key to finding my mate."

Her chest tightened. His devotion to a mate who might not even exist was inspiring, though she couldn't help acknowledging the tiny, sharp prick of jealousy she felt. She wanted to help him, even if all she could do was ease his mind. "Okay," she said, folding her hands on her lap. "Let's explore your dream further. Tell me more."

Taking a deep breath, he began telling her about the lab. When he described translucent chambers, a flash of guilt made her guts twist with nausea as she recalled the face of one of her patients. Syndicorp had been testing methods of rewiring synapses to remove violent tendencies in criminals. The project had sounded good in theory, but the test subjects all suffered severe memory loss and impaired cognition. She'd left Syndicorp because of chambers just like those. Now Chigs was dreaming of them? She couldn't take back what she'd done, but she'd do everything in her power to prevent anyone else from suffering. Shaking off her thoughts, she focused on what Chigs was saying.

"The worst part of the dream is when I hear Dr. Dollard laughing," Chigs finished through gritted teeth. "I worry he's still out there somewhere. That bastard will never give up."

Emmy shook her head and spoke in a firm voice. "Dollard is dead. Humans aren't like denaidans. Like most species, we don't last long in space without a suit."

Chigs growled—literally growled—before saying, "He escaped death before. He could do it again."

Emmy's gaze flickered to the empty spot on her shelf where the stuffed toy Rust had shredded once sat. The volatile cyborg had been struggling with doubts about Dollard when he lost control. Perhaps she should take a step back and reassess the situation with Chigs before pursuing this topic. Besides, there was another thing eating at the edges of her mind. "Chigs, did you work for Syndicorp?"

His features hardened with loathing. "Yes. Like most of my iluq, I was a trooper."

"Perhaps what is manifesting as a dream is actually a memory of something you saw that has haunted your subconscious," Emmy suggested. "That might explain why it felt so vivid."

He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know. I did a lot of guard work when I was a trooper, but I seldom paid attention to what we were guarding."

Her pulse pounded as she contemplated how to bring up her own work with Syndicorp. She had told no one except her best friend, Marlis, about the horrible experiments—not that the human gunslinger, with her short-term memory issues, remembered the confession. Swallowing thickly, Emmy said, "For a short while, I worked on a project using chambers like you describe. It was near one of the prison planets."

Eyes narrowing, Chigs said, "Which planet?"

Relieved he hadn't asked for specifics about her work, Emmy said, "Nunum-qa, but I'm sure the lab has been moved since I was there. Syndicorp is always one step ahead when it comes to ensuring their activities remain a secret from the general public."

"Still..." Chigs stood up, determination etched across his face. "We know Dollard's minions escaped with some of the denaidan prisoners in the lab we raided. Providing specifics might help Kashatok's contacts in the Cartel locate the lab's new location. We have to find those women before it's too late."

Emmy hesitated. It was highly unlikely Kashatok could locate the lab based on one man's dream and her own distant recollections, but between her guilt and the fire in Chigs's eyes, she was willing to try.

"All right," she agreed. "Let's go talk to Kashatok."

Chigs reached down to take her hand, his callouses rough against her palm. "I have faith in Ellam Cua's plan." He pulled her to her feet. "And in you, Emmy. We will find my mate together."

Emmy's heart skipped a beat as she looked into Chigs's eyes, the intensity of his faith radiating off him like a tangible force. In that moment, even she was tempted to believe his dream might be divine intervention. Perhaps I can finally atone for my sins.