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This is a little piece from one of my most popular series, the SF series Underground. Hope you enjoy… As always, leave a comment and let me know what you think! - Esther
“Trooper’s Crusader” - Excerpted from Underground #1: TAMIA
copyright 1992 by Esther Mitchell
Barely five minutes after she settled herself into one of the plush lounge chairs, she heard someone enter the room, and looked up to find a man in his mid-thirties leaning against the doorframe, a curious expression on his stubbly face. His strawberry-blond hair was in disarray, and his half-hearted attempt at a suit was rumpled enough to convince her that he’d slept in it at least once.
“You’re the lady asking about the Altura piece?” He sounded suspicious.
“Yes. My father left some paperwork—”
“I’m not as gullible as Pete, out there,” he snapped as he stepped the rest of the way into the room, and the glass door slid shut behind him.
Tamia straightened instantly as a shot of fear skimmed through her veins. “Who the hell are you?”
“Carey Feldar.”
She gasped. She’d heard of him. Carey Feldar was one of print news’ top-rated war correspondents during the Divide, and the troops were always eager to talk to him. He was sympathetic to their troubles – “the Trooper’s Crusader,” they called him. Feldar won four Pulitzers for his coverage of the disaster in Montreal. “The Carey Feldar?”
He smirked. “There sure as hell ain’t two of me, honey. And I’m the man who snapped this pic,” he held up the clipping she’d given Pete. Feldar’s eyes narrowed. “I know who you are, too, Lieutenant.”
“Captain,” she corrected automatically, and then sighed. “Okay, so I was there. I didn’t really want to advertise that fact, Mr. Feldar.”
“I’d already figured that out, but I think I’m going to enjoying hearing why.” A brief grin slashed his face, and was gone. “And congratulations on your promotion.”
She glanced around. “Is there somewhere else we can talk about this? I need some information from you, about that photo.”
His gaze fell to the clipping in his hand again, and he frowned. “Why do I get the feeling it isn’t aesthetic appreciation that brought you here?”
“Because it’s not,” she confirmed grimly. “It’s a lot more important than that.”
He looked resigned, but interested. “So what’s in it for me?”
“The chance to help prevent another war.”
He smirked. “Haven’t you heard, Captain? War means news. Why would I want to put myself out of a job?”
“Because you’re playing a game with me, and maybe even yourself, right now. You’re the Trooper’s Crusader, and that wasn’t a title you earned, or ever took, lightly.”
She met his green eyes head-on, reading the discomfort there. “You saw enough of war and death to never want to see more.”
His shoulders slumped as he nodded. “All right, you got me there. Let’s go on up to my office. I’ve got plenty to show you.”
This is a little piece from the upcoming ending to Project Prometheus’ Atlantis Silver subseries. As always, please leave a comment and let me know what you think!
”Confession” - Excerpted from Project Prometheus: BETWEEN WORLDS
copyright 2008 by Esther Mitchell
She had no reason to be here. He said he didn’t want to see her. She shouldn’t be here. Delila glanced nervously over her shoulder at the sensation of eyes on her back, even as she inched closer to the hanger door. Hell, she wasn’t supposed to have even been behind the wheel of the jeep. But she couldn’t let Jim leave. Not like this. Not with their argument hanging between them.
The sense of eyes on her grew stronger, and her heart beat like a hummingbird trapped in her throat. Who was out there? She shifted her shoulders uneasily, and nearly screamed when large, hard hands closed over her arms from behind. She nearly wilted at the voice that growled against her ear.
“How the hell did you get here?”
She opened her mouth to tell him, but he cut her off with a gruff, “Scratch that. I don’t care how you got here.”
He spun her around to face him, and Delila swallowed hard as she stared up into Jim Walker’s scowling face and angry green eyes. “What do you want, Delila?”
She stiffened at his snarled demand. This wasn’t the gentle man she knew. This man was beyond angry. But that anger only stiffened her spine more, and she glared back at him.
“I came to apologize.”
The thunderstruck expression on his face nearly made her smile. The anger faded from his eyes, replaced with surprise. “Apologize?”
She nodded, and dropped her eyes from his face. She had to do this. She knew their argument was more her fault than his. But her pride took a beating beneath that knowledge, and his suddenly kind eyes. She cleared her throat.
“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I know you thought I was…offering…”
“Shh.” The gentle touch of Jim’s fingertips to her lips startled Delila, and jerked her head up to him. And the soft light in his green eyes twisted her chest and yanked seldom-loosed tears from her eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.”
“But I… I…”
“You said no.”
She nodded miserably.
He sighed, and his hands dropped to her shoulders, rubbing gently. “Delila. Look at me.”
She glanced up, met his eyes. The serious light in his eyes grabbed hold of her heart and wouldn’t let go.
“You said no.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Damn it!” He exploded, releasing her to stalk away. She cringed as he whirled around, his expression intense. “You have the right to say no, Delila. Never apologize for it.”
She hunched her shoulders and mumbled to herself. It hadn’t mattered to John if she said no.
He froze, and the air between them crackled with tension. “What did you say?”
She flinched. She didn’t want to tell him. “Nothing.”
“Delila.” His voice was so gentle as he approached her again that Delila blinked away her tears. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
She winced, but met his gaze again. “I said, it never mattered before.”
He sucked in a breath, and she watched a new anger kindle in his eyes, but this time, she knew he wasn’t angry at her.
“Who?” He gripped her shoulders again, giving her a tiny shake. “Who hurt you?”
