Page 3 of The Quoram Effect

Placing the glass back on the table, I ran my fingers through my dishevelled hair, the dark strands falling over my eyes in the infuriating way they did when I wore it down. As I strode to the door, I unhooked the hairband fastened around my wrist and winced at the gnawing ache in my right forearm. For weeks, it had nagged me. I blamed it on boxing a little too vigorously of late, but I was starting to wonder if sleeping awkwardly—no thanks to the disturbing dreams I kept having—had something to do with it.

After tying my hair back, I slid my apartment door open and found Saul—all six-foot-five, spiked-haired, and bronze skinned—leaning against the doorframe, dressed in the black security uniform of the Argentum’s Delta Ring. Chewing on root-gum, he grinned at me. “Morning. Boss is asking for ya.”

Rolling my eyes, I folded my arms across my chest. “Really? Or are you still too chicken to face him alone after the stunt we pulled last week?”

Feigning nonchalance, Saul shrugged his broad shoulders. “Torz doesn’t scare me. I blamed it all on you, anyway. Besides, I’ve already seen him this morning.” He straightened, glancing at one of my smartly dressed neighbours strolling past. “Hespecifically asked for you. You’ve overslept and your comms are offline.”

Urgh!I’d forgotten I’d turned my comms off last night. I’d needed peace and solitude following the day I had of breaking up three reported altercations on Level Four.

“What’s Torz want me for, anyway?”

Saul threw me an incredulous look. “I don’t know.”

Full of reluctance, I inwardly sighed. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later than intended—after an elevator jump up two levels, passing four bulkheads and two intersections of main corridors—I walked into Torz’s office situated on Level Ten. To be honest, it wasn’t really an office. It was his apartment-slash-operational headquarters, and only those loyally sworn to him were allowed access. His formal office, which he frequented to show official military presence, was located in the Delta Ring Command Centre near the Central Docks.

Casually dressed, with his dark hair still wet and swept back from the shower, Torz sat in his favourite armchair, hunched over a digital pad with a cup of coffee in his hand. As usual, the main apartment appeared immaculate and untouched. In comparison, the smaller room I’d just entered was a cluttered mess. Old books were stacked in piles on the floor next to a wilting silver-leafed potted plant. Boxes ofGods know whatstood in a tower in the far corner, blocking the only outer window. Empty food trays and coffee cups cluttered the desk, and there was always an anti-gravity ball somewhere…oh yeah, there it was, hovering under the lamp between the hologram receiver and games console.

Gods, this room gives me anxiety.

Looking up from his digital pad, Torz narrowed his brown eyes at me, roving them up and down my black uniform with scrutiny. “Where’ve you been?”

Eyeing the creased T-shirt and lounge pants he was wearing, I inwardly questioned how he could chastise me for being late when he wasn’t exactly ready for work, either. And as if he read my mind perfectly, he countered, “I didn’t clock off until two this morning.”

“Long meeting, was it?”

“Something like that.”

I walked over to the half-full coffeepot perched on an antiquated radio and poured myself a cup, well aware he was patiently awaiting my response.

“I didn’t sleep well,” I finally answered.

His emotions shifted. The scepticism morphed into intrigue and then…was that concern?

I had to admit: it was disconcerting the bond Damsons had. When in close proximity, the connection enabled each couple to perceive one another’s emotions. Though, I’d been able to feel Torz in that way regardless of where he was aboard the Argentum. Sometimes, it was intrusive and outright inappropriate, making me question who he was with, whilst I crumbled with reluctant jealousy. On the occasion he travelled to another station, the respite from the dual set of emotions was always a welcome relief.

I’d always assumed—and hoped—the connection would eventually diminish due to our rejection, but for me, it never had. I assumed it was the same for Torz, but that was a subject we never broached.

“Everything alright?” he asked, our bond flooding with a gentle tingle of intrigue. “Something bothering you?”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I choked back the reason behind my fitful night’s sleep. Thank Gods I had my back to him. “No. It’s nothing.”

“Okay. Well, I need you on form today,” he said. “Governor Zuli from the Linxos is making the rounds before the Debate Gala next week. She is due aboard the Argentum in the next hour, starting her tour with Delta Ring. I need you to escort me while I greet her.”

I turned from the radio, now with a cup of coffee warming my hands, and paused, eyeing the fabric support covering Torz’s left wrist and forearm. “What’s wrong with your wrist?”

“Oh, this?” He glanced down at it, a bolt of embarrassment hitting me through our bond like a spark of lightning. “Just a sprain…from the gym. Anyway…” Clearing his throat, he rubbed the flannel material. “Did you hear me? About Governor Zuli?”

Taking a sip of scalding coffee, I nodded. “Yes. Would Arlo not be a better choice to assist you? He is your chief of security.”

“Zuli requested a female escort. Don’t ask me why. I assume she’s more comfortable with the fairer sex.”

“Have you seen me?” I snorted, gesturing to my black-clad uniform, harshly pulled back dark hair, and scowling facial features Saul always mocked me for.

Torz smiled to himself. “You’re not as scary as you think, Rems.”