No Such Thing Read Free

goes out in the field without a focus band?"
    Bags shrugged, turning to watch the displays with a critical eye. "That reroute good enough to go on line?"
    Sighing, Declan hefted his tool case and headed back for the shaft. "Let me just clean it up. I’ll holler when it’s clear."
    Bags grunted in reply, and with a grim clench of his jaw, Declan shoved his case ahead of him into the service shaft. If only he could trust the autobots
    with this kind of job, but Bags and he were alike in that respect—never trust a bot to do what could be done with his own hand. That way he knew it
    was done right. Shimmying into the shaft, he elbow-crawled toward the offending service panel, thoughts still fixed on the arriving telenetic.
    Bags hadn’t really answered his question and curiosity was eating at him. He’d never seen a telenetic in person. Did they really look like
    they did on the newsblips—remote, mysterious, and beautiful? He knew their beauty was due more to their rarity than physical loveliness, but a plain
    face didn’t lessen their impact. They all seemed to move with a suggestion of power, an aura of energy and confidence that was magnetic.
    Fumbling with the panel cover, Declan focused on the one piece of information that he’d purposefully ignored while he was with Bags.
A girl.
They wouldn’t have sent a child, so she had to be close to his age. His heart did a queer little sidestep in his chest at the thought. Being accepted
    on board as crew of the
Odyssey
might be an amazing boost for his career, but all the women on board treated him like their long-lost kid brother.
    He’d been working half-heartedly on a crush for one of the gunners, but the idea of a female telenetic his age made him dry-mouthed with adolescent
    anticipation.
    Stupid,
he thought savagely as he wrestled the panel out of his way and stared at the tangle of connecting filaments. As if a telenetic would look twice at a grunt
    like him.
Only if she was scrapping me off her shoe,
he thought with an inner snort, remembering what Bags had said about her being an ice nebula.
    Well, he could fantasize all he liked, but he wasn’t likely to even catch a glimpse of her, let alone meet her on a ship this size.
    With a sigh, he reached into the case for his splicer. Time to get back to reality.
    *******
    Ryelle watched her new commander pace and wondered if he was working off excess energy or if he was nervous. It wouldn’t be the first time
    she’d made someone nervous, but this man had a reputation for steel nerve and stone resolve. The Fleet would put no less a person in command of their
    best ship.
    She wouldn’t ask the reason for his restlessness, though. Or his silence. It wasn’t polite and she was too tired, weary to the bone. The trip,
    plus facing the crew, had been utterly draining. They’d stared at her with that peculiar combination of awe and revulsion that telenetics seemed to
    produce in normals. It had been a long time since she’d had to endure so many curious eyes. Perhaps never—she was used to peaceful solitude at
    the Institute and the crew unsettled her to her soul.
    So while her new boss paced, she eased back in her chair and tried to rest. He didn’t make it easy. His restless movements and his aura of powerful
    command kept snagging her attention. He had a wiry, rangy form with long, spare features, his receding sandy hair cut short while still managing to rebel
    in a cowlick at the back of his head. His entire long form seemed to vibrate with energy, but every move he made was deliberate and measured, as though
    experience had taught him caution or control.
    Without warning, his stride turned into a slow stroll to the seat across from her. He settled into the cushions, his light blue eyes spearing her with keen
    regard. "Please forgive my rudeness," he said in an unexpectedly melodious voice. "The Institute explained that you were young and
    inexperienced, but they insisted that you were the right choice for