“Wonder why the locks weren’t computerized?” Jannike asked.
“No idea. Don’t care.” Shiloh wrenched on the door and forced it to open.
“I let out others.” Kelvin darted away with the keys in hand.
“Be careful,” Jannike called. “Some of them will be dangerous.” She started to scoop up the uneaten fruit and nuts plus the ration pouches they hadn’t touched.
Shiloh watched her fashion a makeshift bag with approval. “I’ll see what else I can scavenge, but we can’t take too long. We need to move. Lynx, you feeling better?”
A growl came from the rear of the cell.
“You need to shift and help us carry supplies.” A loud roar came from one of the other cells. “Holy phrull. That’s a floris dragon,” Shiloh said on catching a glimpse of the crimson wings as the dragon flew through the jagged hole in the side of the ship.
“All done,” Kelvin said. “Some creatures dead. Others injured. Can’t help. Must look after self. Need drink. Liquid before we leave.” He hurried to his cell and started to drink, tipping so much liquid down his throat it was a wonder he didn’t block his breathing.
“Shoulder better?” Shiloh asked.
“The bone has clicked back in place. I’ll survive.” Lynx gathered the thin blankets into a pile and used one to fasten a pack in much the same way Jannike had. “Might work as a shelter from the heat. We should use these to cover our heads. It will help keep our bodies cooler.”
Shiloh scooped up a basic medical kit and turned to Jannike. Royal clung to her, softly crying. “Let’s move out.”
She gave him a clipped nod and grabbed pouches of water as she passed the food station of their neighbors. Shiloh snatched up as many as he could and loaded them in another thin blanket.
They picked their way past the debris in the corridor, and Shiloh had to steel himself against stopping to help some of the injured creatures. Couldn’t save them. No one could help them now.
A striped tigoth sprang at Jannike but before Shiloh could react, Kelvin had thumped it across the nose with a whiplike arm. The force of the blow deflected the creature and left it stunned.
“Thanks,” Jannike said.
Kelvin gave a clipped nod and continued toward the gaping hole in the side of the ship.
“An explosion of some type,” Lynx said.
Shiloh nodded. Scorched black edges showed the force of the detonation, the scent of soot, metal and misery filling the air. The impact had decimated the nearby cells. The inhabitants hadn’t stood a chance.
By common consent, they paused to survey the territory beyond the ship. White sand mainly—peppered with gray rocks—stretched in every direction. A breeze stirred the particles. The heat from the solar-star radiated off the sand, making Shiloh squint through the heat waves. Several creatures galloped across the sand while others flew. One nearby crawled, his leg injured. He left a trail of oozing blood behind him on the sand.
“Desert,” Jannike said. “We’re on Manx Two.”
“Which way to the dome?” Shiloh asked. “That’s our sole option. Is the planet all sand and dunes?”
“The dome is on the west side of the planet. There’s a deserted mining village to the north. These dunes are interspersed with rocky outcrops. There are areas called havens where there is shelter. Sometimes water, but they’re not large enough to sustain a village. They’re hard to find. Some people believe they’re mirages, but my father—never mind. I believe there are havens somewhere within the desert region.”
“We need transport,” Lynx countered. “If the mining village is deserted, we won’t find transport there. We should take our chances at the dome.”
“I agree,” Shiloh said. “We’ll enter and blend then beg, borrow or steal transport.”
Kelvin gave a curt nod.
Outnumbered, Jannike gave in and clambered from the ship. She scowled, her jaw set. “Come on, Ry,” she muttered.
“Not looking forward to going home?” Shiloh asked, his feline senses hearing her easily. “I thought you said Ry has a mate.”
“He’s my friend. His mate is my friend. I miss them.”
“I understand. I miss my family.” He clamped down on his bottom lip to prevent another word.
“I have never missed Manx Two,” Jannike said. “If I’m captured, I’ll be returned to the widow as an escapee. Believe me, death is a better alternative.”
Lynx placed an arm around her shoulders. “We won’t let that happen. I promise.”
“We’ll keep you safe to the best of our ability,” Shiloh agreed.
Kelvin dropped to the ground beside them with a thud. Two copper-colored birds with big round eyes perched in his hair. They clung tight with talons and squished together as if they required the security of touch. “Too much talk. This is no social gathering. West is this way. I have excellent sense of direction.”
Shiloh broke into a trot. “Like the new decoration,” he said to Kelvin.
“I couldn’t leave them.” Kelvin’s green-brown hair rustled like the leaves of a tree while a frown marked his weather-scarred face.
“That’s not a criticism.” Lynx eyed the birds with interest. “It was good of you to help them.”
“It takes a while to become used to Shiloh,” Jannike added.
The birds let out a series of low, melodic whistles, and Kelvin replied with a rustling of his hair. “They offered to scout the territory once we are away from the ship.”
“You can communicate?” Jannike asked.
“Yes. They speak a little known language.”
“Move,” Shiloh snapped. “I hear tracker lizards. Jannike is right. We should travel in the opposite direction. They’ll assume we’ll head to the dome.”
“Aye,” Kelvin said. “Tracker lizards will follow others going west. I see prints. Lots of creatures escaped before us. Many highly sensitive. They will sense the dome or know of it. Many share information while in cells.”
They had? Shiloh hadn’t caught the communication between the other cells. Something must have shown in his expression.
Kelvin said, “Tremin have excellent hearing and speak many languages because we are nomadic. Visit many planets.”
Nothing wrong with feline ears and he hadn’t heard a thing. Of course, he’d been more worried about keeping Lynx away from Jannike and his own urges to grab Lynx and sex him half to death. Shiloh shuddered, blood rushing south to fill his cock. “Enough talk,” he growled. “We move in silence. Lynx, you go first, and I’ll follow in the rear. Hopefully the winds will sweep away our tracks.”
“Won’t be able to track all,” Kelvin said.
Lynx set a brisk pace—not quite a run but faster than a walk—and headed around the base of the sandy dunes. Overhead the solar-star shone brightly, beading sweat on Shiloh’s face, his torso, his arms and legs. Clothing clung and the shifting, unstable sands made balance difficult. Soon, his calves burned.
Lynx walked steadily, and Shiloh kept sniffing the air, cocking his head to discover if the tracker lizards were following their trail. Nothing. The lizards remained behind them, and tension eased from his shoulders. They might have half a chance if no one pursued them straightaway.
The dunes gave way to the rocky outcrops Jannike had mentioned and footing became easier.
“Damn this place feels like a phrullin’ cook fire.” Lynx came to a halt.
“Once the solar-star falls lower in the sky, the temperature will plummet,” Jannike said. “We haven’t gone far, but it would be best if we find shelter. We can travel more easily at blacklight—at least before the temperatures fall into uncomfortable. Shiloh, you and Lynx can shift and guide us through the darkness. Your eyesight is better than mine.”
“Sheltering from the worst of this heat makes sense.” Kelvin blinked rapidly and stirred his hair.
The round-eyed birds rode the movement and whistled. They seemed to agree with the assessment while Royal remained silent, his furry arms wrapped around Jannike.
/> “Sometimes the outcrops have caves,” Jannike said. “Or failing that we could make a shelter from some of the blankets.”
Lynx absently rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll watch for something suitable.”
Shiloh remained silent, not needing to add to the conversation since the suggestions were sensible. Thank the goddess. The idea of getting landed with a helpless female or a complaining creature would slice their chances of a successful escape.
Now that he was confident recapture wasn’t imminent, he allowed his thoughts to drift. His gaze tracked Lynx, at the front of their group. His friend favored his shoulder yet kept trudging onward. Pride suffused Shiloh. If he had to shipwreck on a hostile planet, he couldn’t have picked better companions.
* * * * *
The message arrived halfway through her official engagement. Ursola frowned at the vibration of the jeweled earlink she’d donned to wear for the gathering. She ignored it to continue her conversation with the ambassador of Nidni. Smiling at a joke, she accepted a goblet of willow sizzle from a slave then excused herself.
Ursola made her way into the fragrant garden and sipped the sparkling purple wine. The lights spread out like a twinkling colored carpet, the buildings dark silhouettes standing in soldier-straight rows all the way to the curved wall of the dome. Many other guests had the same idea—lured by the crisp blacklight air, the view and the myriad tubs of rare flowering plants owned by the ambassador of Manx Two. She stalked to the far end and managed to find a private corner.
With a command, she linked to her home. “You called?”
“Lunaheart.” Cayle’s husky murmur brought a shudder of need to the fore. “There was an urgent call from the captain of the Asperity. He wants you to contact him.”
“They’ve landed?” A broad smile curved her lips.
“They’ve crashed in the desert outside the dome.”
The hand holding her wine trembled violently. Splotches of purple splashed onto her black-and-white form-fitting gown. “The desert?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll call immediately.” Ursola gripped her goblet as she fought a scream.
“I’m sorry, Ursola. I know you were looking forward to the Asperity’s arrival.”
“Not your fault.” She clicked off. Every nuance of the turmoil spinning in her gut poured from her in a succinct curse. “Gafinkarse.”
She forced herself to suck in a deep breath, let the lifeforce ease out. It couldn’t be that bad, not if the captain was calling her from the crash site.
Temper muted at the thought, she put a call through to the ship. “What happened?” she demanded the instant she heard the captain’s voice.
“The engine malfunctioned then blew. There was a secondary explosion in the cargo hold. Most of the crew is dead.”
“What about the cargo?”
“Some survived, but many have escaped. Piros is out with his tracker lizards now, rounding up the escapees.”
“Can you repair the ship?”
“The second officer is working on the problem now, but we require parts. The damage from the explosion is extensive. It would be best to send another ship to transport the cargo to the dome.”
“I see.” An understatement. She didn’t see at all. How could this happen when the Asperity had traveled the universe and beyond to collect specimens? Why had her ship foundered in her home territory? “I want to know what caused the explosion and the engine trouble.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Make sure you capture every one of my specimens and transport them here. I’ll expect regular reports.” Ursola clicked off the link and drank the remainder of her willow sizzle. She paced back and forth as she drank, her mind working furiously. The Asperity received regular servicing. She made sure of it because efficient working tools made for productivity.
Someone on board the Asperity had sabotaged her ship.
A competitor?
A frustrated employee?
Or someone else?
“Gafinkarse.” Any number of her acquaintances sought power, fought to steal her achievements.
But she would prevail. Yes. The pressure on her chest eased. She must pretend nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Business as usual.
Lifting her chin, Ursola stalked back into the mass of party guests, a smile fixed in place.
“Ah, Mistress Verena.” The Nidni ambassador held out his hands. “I wondered at your disappearance. I wished to ask you to dance.”
His deep brown eyes held good humor and not a trace of sly guilt. She forced her lips to a deeper curve. “I wanted to see our host’s rare flowers. They are quite spectacular. Their fragrance ’tis most bewitching, and the lights of the city are very pretty.”
“I had a private tour before the guests arrived. Our dance? Would now be suitable?”
Ah! Sexual interest, not a business competitor. This, she could deal with. “I’d love to dance with you.” She set her glass aside, accepted the hand he extended and let him guide her through the crowd.
The music became louder. A pleasant enough sound but grating now that she ached to return home and take control of this gafinkarse shamble.
The ambassador swept her into his arms and pulled her against his chest.
Ursola’s breath whooshed out when the prod of something hard jabbed her belly. She fought to maintain a level expression. “Ambassador, it’s very warm. People are saying experts should lower the dome temperature control to counteract the heatwave. What do you think? Is it this hot on Nidni?”
“Oh yes. Our warm months are hot indeed. We have a beautiful planet. I would love to show you the village of Ytnelpxes and the Ynroh Temple complex. It is a fascinating place.” His brown eyes gleamed, as if he told a private joke.
“I haven’t heard of Ytnelpxes. You’ll have to tell me more.” Ursola attempted to wriggle away so the prod of his shaft didn’t punctuate her belly with each gliding step.
“Oh my dear. I will.”
The music drifted to an end, and Ursola smiled at the ambassador. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our discussion until another cycle. I am feeling rather fatigued. I believe I’ll leave for home.”
“Let me escort you to the skytrain,” the ambassador said. “Or did you hire private transport?”
“I used the elite carriages of the skytrain. No need for you to leave the party early. I’m sure others wish to speak with you about the possibility of forming a trade alliance with Nidni.”
A senior slave dressed in formal black stepped onto the dais with the band. “Supper is served,” he intoned. “Please move into the large reception room.”
“Stay for supper,” the ambassador murmured. “We can chat for longer.”
“I’m afraid my head is aching,” Ursola said. “I suffer from headaches and have done since I was young. Once they start, a tablet and sleep is my sole relief.” An understatement. A pulse pounded at her temples—the reason being her downed ship. She smiled, infusing it with politeness and regret. “Another time.”
“I will escort you home,” the ambassador said.
Ursola bit back a sigh. “Thank you. That would be lovely.” She wheeled away from the man and made her way to the exit. After stopping to observe the niceties and bid good blacklight to her hosts, Ursola left the party, the ambassador an annoying companion on the short trek to the skystation.
Manx Two citizens—those of low standing—loitered near and inside the public waiting room. She ignored them to code into the elite waiting area.
“Ambassador, I am fine. I intend to contact a slave to meet me at the station.”
“I insist.”
“Very well.” Ursola entered the elite shelter with the ambassador trailing her and twenty secs later, a skytrain pulled into the station, almost silent in its approach. She accepted his arm and entered the car.
“This train is efficient.”
“Yes.” Ursola smiled. “They’re secure too. Even females on their own can travel at any
mark of the cycle without the need to fear for their safety.”
Thankfully, the journey to her home station was rapid. Ursola sat on a seat with her fingers pressed to her forehead, a ploy to keep the ambassador at bay. She pressed her earlink to signal Cayle, and he answered immediately. “I’m on my way home. Meet me at the skytrain station,” she instructed and disconnected.
The train halted at a station and passengers exited. The doors shut.
“I believe we can do business together,” the ambassador said. “Your companies are capable of providing Nidni with the turnaround we require for our household goods. However, I will require further discussions to firm the details. Perhaps we can meet over dinner on the next cycle.”
Pushy male. He might possess a dashing way but compared to Cayle he came up lacking. “Certainly—if my headache retreats.”
The skytrain zapped along the track before slowing for the next station. Her station. Ursola stood once the train came to a standstill.
“This is my stop.”
“I’ll wait with you until your servant arrives,” the ambassador said, his hand giving warm guidance at the small of her back.
They reached the platform and she turned to him. “Thank you, Ambassador, but it’s not necessary.”
“Call me, Lankesh.” His hot breath wafted against her cheek.
She blinked and stared up at him.
“Mistress,” a familiar voice said from behind them.
The ambassador started, and Ursola caught back a smile.
“My slave.”
“Our dinner?” Lankesh asked.
“Comm the house when—”
A flash of light seared her retinas. A crack of sound followed. Lankesh shouted. Another explosive pop reverberated through the station. Hands grabbed her shoulders, tossed her to the stone floor. Cayle’s familiar warm body pressed her into the chill of the stone, and Lankesh hit the deck beside them.
People shouted, legs scurrying past their position. When a third shot—and it was blaster fire because the scent of scorched synmetal filled each of her gasping breaths—other people joined them on the floor.
“We need to move,” Cayle murmured.
“I’ve commed law enforcement,” Lankesh said. “They’ll be here shortly.”
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