“Yes,” the lizardine warrior acknowledged, “but you are our freak.”

  From the sound of it, Felix judged the recording to be about half way through, the after-effects bordering on dangerous, if she had really still been sick. She would have argued further, but, ever predictable, Carlisle knocked at the door.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Give me a minute.” Felix timed her reply between recorded bouts of throwing up, watched as Mika signaled switching it off.

  “Oh, God,” Felix said, giving another realistic groan and shuffling as though standing up.

  Mika vanished, but his voice whispered in her ear.

  “Give me your address. I need your advice.”

  Advice? Well, that was a first, but Command wanted to know what the lizardine wanted, and if this was the only way to get it without creating a bigger incident than the initial crash and capture, then Felix was willing to play along. She turned on the tap, letting the first few seconds of water run down the drain, before cupping her hands and using the rest to rinse out her mouth.

  Sip, swirl and spit. Sip—

  The door handle turned.

  “Ma’am? I’ve been told to check.”

  There was movement as Felix hastily cleared her mouth and reached for a hand towel, a blur, the touch of fingers, battle-gloved once more, on the side of her face. A lizardine gesture of thanks. The room appeared to be empty of all else bar her, when Carlisle opened the door. Felix fixed him with a stern look.

  “This had better be good, Carlisle.”

  He gave her face a six-second study, then glanced around the bathroom.

  “Doc said you shouldn’t still be throwing up. He said, if you kept it up, I was to hit you with one of these.”

  Manx held up a squeeze-bulb injector similar to the one he’d used in the car. The sight of its distinctive color made her feel queasy. The part of her the lizardine had messed with would not get on with that, at all.

  “Please don’t, Manx,” she said, and almost cursed when he returned sharp-eyed attention to her face. She’d gone from Carlisle to Manx in less than a sentence and a pause, and that clearly meant something to her aide.

  He said nothing, however, but took the injector away, letting the bathroom door close behind him.

  When Felix emerged, it was to find a freshly drawn pot of tea and a small tray of biscuits on her desk. Carlisle was nowhere in sight, so Felix walked quietly to her office door and looked out. Her aide was sitting at his desk in the reception area outside her office. He glanced up as she appeared.

  “Command wants a report on what happened,” he told her, “And Medical wants you to make an appointment with the Psyches.”

  Felix stared at him.

  “Wasn’t just me,” he said, returning her gaze. “There were three of us in the car, you know, and regulations…”

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  Felix closed her eyes and nodded, waving a hand to stem the flow of words.

  “How urgent is the report?”

  “They want it before I take you home.”

  “Give me an hour.”

  Felix retreated back into her office and sat down behind the computer. She watched as the door locked itself, felt the hum of sound-dampening technology switch on. Mika, reappearing in front of her desk, was no surprise.

  “You know this office is under surveillance, right?”

  Mika looked smug.

  “The cameras are, as you humans like to say, on the blink.” He waved a clawed hand at the wall, where a red light was blinking in what might have been frustration.

  “I have a report to write,” Felix said, then remembered something of custom. “Tea?”

  Mika frowned.

  “Is it safe?”

  “I can drink it.”

  “Then, yes. Thank you.”

  “You wanted my advice?” Felix asked, pouring him a cup.

  “The sensors aren’t working,” he said, and Felix smiled.

  “I know, so it should be safe to talk about it. It’ll give me some time to think on what can be done.”

  “You’re willing to aid and abet?”

  Felix shook her head, watched him take a sip.

  “No, but your people sent you for a reason—and they sent you, one of the few they can least afford to lose. For that, they must have something important they need to say.”

  Mika sipped again, studying her over the rim of his cup.

  “The survival of your race depends on it,” he said, licking tea drops from his lips, with his nimble lizardine tongue.

  Felix watched. The sight had once fascinated her, but she had since spent hours watching the lizardine at rest and at war. She’d seen them clean dust from their eyes, using those tongues—they were a relic of heritage she hadn’t been given, and she didn’t know if she was thankful for that, or not.

  “But that’s not all you’ve come to talk about, is it?” she asked.

  “No. You were given a gift, and I do not mean one of inheritance.”

  Felix waited. She knew what gift he was talking about, was intensely grateful that the feeds were temporarily off-line. There were only two others who knew of that gift. She had kept it a secret, just as she’d promised. There were words that had to be said, before she revealed her knowledge.

  “My grandfather survived—”

  Whatever else Mika might have said was lost in the thunderous knocking on her door. Felix glanced in surprise at the lizardine warrior, just in time to see him fade. She heard the faint click of her door locks releasing, but it came at the same time as her door gave a tortured creak, and then cracked around the handle, bursting inwards to allow two security guards to come hurtling into the room, their weapon muzzles searching the corners, the walls, and the ceiling for an intruder, the tinted visors covering their eyes usually all it took to reveal a lizardine suit in blend mode.

  “What is going on?” Felix demanded, rising from behind her desk.

  “Sit down, ma’am.”

  “Sit down!”

  Both guns were pointed at her.

  “Ma’am, I must insist that you sit.”

  Felix stared at them, but raised her hands and sat. She watched as they went through her office, searching it with care. Noticing that Mika had placed his cup of half-drunk tea on the other side of her desk, Felix reached across and picked it up. She was still holding it when the guards came out of her bathroom. One frowned as he glanced in her direction, and Felix raised the cup to her lips, absent mindedly sipping its contents while she waited for them to be done. When they had gone over every inch of her office and en suite, the two guards raised their visors and walked back to the door.

  One of them spared her a glance before departing.

  “Thank you, ma’am. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

  Felix slowly lowered the cup.

  “No problem,” she replied, and wondered who else might be coming to visit. She had heard the guards reporting to another person out in reception, and it hadn’t been Manx Carlisle. Indeed, her assistant appeared in the doorway next, studiously ignoring the damaged door as he came and gathered up the teapot and tray.

  “Ma’am. May I?” he asked, indicating the cup in her hand, and that was when the enormity of what she had done struck her.

  She had shared a cup with a high-borne lizardine warrior, diplomat, counselor, and lord. That had shades of meaning she’d completely forgotten when she’d raised the cup to her lips and taken her first sip. Oh, Hell.

  “Ma’am?”

  It would be a deadly insult for her to hand the cup to another male so soon after drinking from it—deadly, and she was growing fond of Carlisle.

  “I’m not done, yet, Carlisle.”

  “But, ma’am, you have a guest.”

  You have no idea, she thought.

  “Then bring an extra cup and a fresh pot,” she snapped. “This one stays with me.”

  Carlisle tightened his lips in disapproval.

  “Guests should be served first, ma’am,” he said, his tone strained.