Rogue Warrior

by Elin Wyn

  And it did.

  “Outgoing air from the recirculator would be filtered through here.”

  And it was, just like he said. I slid another panel off my bracelet, carefully exposing the two thick plugs, each the size of the last joint of my pinky finger.

  With a grimace, I shoved them into my nose and locked my jaw tight.

  The other shoe’s heel peeled apart to reveal the vial of sleeping gas.

  I shoved it into the recirculator and hunkered down behind the machinery to wait.

  This was the most dangerous part of the job.

  Because we were uncertain what species made up the crew of The Terror, it made it almost impossible to estimate exactly what the dosage would be to incapacitate them all.

  I’d put quite a bit into their air.

  Just to be certain.

  But while I was waiting, there was always the chance that one of them would get bored. Decide to pay the cargo bay a visit.

  See that I was gone.

  But somehow, that wasn't what concerned me the most. Waiting wouldn't be Valtic’s strong point. And the longer he had to wait, the more I worried whether or not he’d do something rash.

  Finally, enough time had passed that even by my most cautious estimates, surely it would be safe to proceed.

  Slowly I retraced the path the two goons had taken me down.

  One set of stairs, the second.

  Eventually, I came to where I’d been brought on board.

  This wasn't the Rogue Star, not the same sort of lines at all.

  But if I thought of a ship as a living creature, I could almost mentally overlay the anatomy of one on top of the other.

  Closing my eyes, I dragged the outlines together in my mind. Engineering on the Rogue Star was there, and on The Terror, about here…

  So, maybe...

  I turned to the left. Chances were good that my professors in comparative anatomy wouldn't have known what to make of this new use for the skill, but it had worked well enough patching up Orrin when he was shot.

  Hopefully, the same general principles would apply.

  I turned another corner and stopped.

  A black-clad body sprawled on the deck, one green hand sticking out.

  Well, that was one of them down.

  Hopefully, the other asshole would be close by.

  Carefully, I picked my way over the unconscious form and continued on.

  One more turn, and there the other one was.

  My shoulders dropped just a bit in relief.

  They were both down and if I was right, the bridge with the navigation computer we needed would be right...

  Oh shit.

  Standing, well more like staggering, in front of the door was a giant bull-like guard.

  Not just big and broad, but two sets of arms and it seemed quite possible a pair of horns were distorting the shape of this one's hood.

  Much more importantly, the gas didn't seem to be affecting whatever the hell this was.

  Well. I stopped, thought. I could hit the panic button, call Valtic now, or I could see if I could handle this myself.

  I pulled out the two syringes I'd preloaded from the folds of my skirt.

  Slipping them free, I tucked them carefully in one fist.

  Well, this had worked before. No reason it wouldn’t work again.

  “Oh help me!” I gasped, running into the corridor straight into the thick chest.

  “Huh? What?” Apparently, the gas had worked, just not completely. He reached for me, but seemed dazed, slower than I would expect a guard to be.

  “Oh, you've got to help me!” I squealed and then darted past him, twisting to stab both needles into his shoulder.

  With a grunt of pain, he stiffened, then swiped at me again as he went down.

  Thank goodness two had been enough. I patted my one last syringe. Hopefully, I wouldn't need it to get out.

  Examining the door, I didn't find another helpful manual override.

  Definitely something to talk to Orrin about.

  But that slot looked a bit like a card reader, didn’t it?

  Carefully, I patted the guard down, lightly running my fingers over his pockets until I found the outline.

  With a quick swipe of the card, I was in.

  It was the bridge, the layout a little different than on the Rogue Star, but still the functions appeared to be the same.

  I searched over the control panels for anything that looked familiar.

  That on there. That looked like the panel Qal worked on.

  I stepped further into the room and then froze, my attention held by what lay on the other side of the navigation controls.

  Oh no. It was like my nightmares come to life, all the way here and in Dominion space.

  Transport pods from the Flosh drive.

  Lined up against the wall.

  Five of them in a row.

  Why? Why were they here?

  Valtic

  I crouched behind the shipping containers, eyes fixed on the muted glow of my tablet. The dot that marked Lynna’s location moved steadily through the ship.

  Was it worse that she was still moving or would it be worse when she was still?

  When I wouldn't know what was happening to her?

  I tore myself away from the tablet.

  I had my own job to do.

  Slipping from one shadow to the next, I slid open the bag of tricks Orrin and Marris had supplied me with.

  One more adjustment to the plan.

  The tiny devices contained within the case would send a weak signal. Certainly not enough for us to track the location of The Terror, but certainly enough for us to have an earlier notification if the ship came anywhere near us.

  The original plan had been to put one inside the ship. Which was fine. But the problem would be if The Terror had a reasonably competent security officer.

  We had to assume they would.

  A competent security officer would notice any unauthorized transmission coming from inside the ship—and then hunt it down and destroy it.

  But if we had several devices, all sending on the same channel, it might take them too long to discover.

  And if the devices were on the exterior of the hull?

  Even better.

  As I approached the underbelly of The Terror, another guard passed, his outline subtly different than the two that had taken Lynna inside.

  So, they had a separate detail for exterior guard duty.

  Fine.

  I slipped one of the tiny transponders into my hand and ducked and rolled until I was on the other side of the landing gear from the passing guard.

  Having to avoid them would help keep my mind off Lynna.

  I half-snorted. That was ridiculous. My mind would probably never be entirely off her again, certainly not now.

  I stuck the transponder inside the landing gear, then moved on, looking for more places to attach my little goodies.

  One on the underside of an exhaust port.

  One by the refuse chute.

  Another where two panels had twisted slightly, leaving a tiny gap just wide enough for the disc to fit.

  Almost halfway through the bag now, I took a moment to glance at the tablet.

  Lynna’s movements slowed. If I had to guess, she'd have already dispatched the guards and was now sneaking through the ship.

  She was smart. Brave. I had to believe she'd be alright.

  And if she signaled for help, I’d just kill them all.

  Easy.

  “Dead night.” A voice broke the silence and I froze.

  “Yeah,” the second guard who I hadn't seen spoke up. “Looking forward to my time in town.”

  The first man laughed, low and guttural, then muttered a response.

  So, these weren’t guards hired by the dock, but crewmembers of The Terror.

  Potentially useful to know.

  I stayed still as the two men talked, their attention barely on their work detail, eyes casual
ly scanning the dock.

  I wasn't going to argue.

  Eventually they moved off, still chatting.

  As I continued placing the transponders, I kept an eye out for various exit points.

  Would Lynna be able to make her way back to the hatch they'd taken her in?

  It was a stupid idea. I knew it even as I pulled the tablet out to check her position again.

  Scro.

  She was in one area. Assessing the history, it looked like she'd stayed still and then walked back and forth across a short area.

  Walked, or was pulled?

  No.

  This must mean she was on the bridge.

  She was fine. She was—

  “Hey! What do you think you're doing here?”

  Double scro.

  Sliding the tablet back into the satchel, I spun to face the guard.

  The third guard.

  That I hadn't noticed.

  Dejar would never let me hear the end of this.

  I tried to force my expression into something friendly. Harmless.

  It felt weird.

  “You see, I was out taking a walk and thought I'd look at the ship, never quite seen one of its design before, and—”

  “Seriously?”

  Huh.

  Unlike the other two idiots, this one actually seemed like he had a brain in his skull.

  Which made it easier for me.

  I hated coming up with that sort of cover story on the fly. Something else I should've thought about rather than worrying about Lynna.

  I grinned and shrugged. “Well, can't blame a guy for trying.”

  “Actually,” the guard brought up his blaster, “I can.”

  I dove to the side, swinging behind a dangling strut while snapping out my own short-barreled piece.

  He dodged, my first bolt missing, but my second knocked him down. The third tag finished the job.

  While my own weapon had been silenced, the shots from the guard’s blaster had rung through the dark dock, bringing the other two running.

  A position behind the containers at the edge of the yard would give me better coverage but take me too far away from Lynna.

  It looked as though she was trying to return to the hatch, her dot moving closer to her original pathways. What was she doing? Then, in answer, the dot on my screen started pulsating.

  She had activated her emergency beacon.

  Time to stop playing around and get my mate to safety.

  Lynna

  I took one step towards the Flosh pods, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out any other sound.

  Another.

  Realization crept around the corners of my shocked mind. These weren't exactly like the pods I'd worked with.

  Mine had been blank metal cylinders, slightly tapered at the end.

  I'd only known the fate of the passenger when I unlocked the top and swung it open.

  These each had a transparent opening, a clear oval, that covered the upper third. Wires ran down the side of each of the five pods, leading to some sort of control panel.

  I couldn't read the characters. Not Shein, then.

  I touched one of the pods, still half convinced it wasn't real, that somehow my fear was just bringing my nightmare to life in front of me.

  It was quite solid.

  And very cold.

  I took a deep breath. Come on, Lynna. Whatever the hell this is, that's not what you're here for.

  Straightening my shoulders, I turned my back to the pods and examined what looked remarkably like Qal’s navigation console.

  The keys were set up a little differently, but eventually I figured out where the memory console was.

  Probably.

  Carefully, I slid the second to last gem out of my bracelet.

  It jumped out of my hand as I got close to the metal surface, its magnetic fastening setting it firmly into place.

  I held my breath.

  Slowly, the gem glowed, pulsing a deep purple.

  It was working. Cloning their navigation logs, every place this damn ship had been, every world from which it had stolen women, every place it had delivered them to.

  As soon as we had their records, we’d have some answers.

  I chewed my lip, glancing at the door. Nothing I could do would make the drive cloning device work any faster. Reluctantly, I turned back to those pods.

  Now that I’d calmed down a bit, I saw the clear ovals weren't entirely transparent, but slightly opaque around the edges of the opening, thinning at the middles.

  Like frost.

  I touched one again.

  The cold. Was this some sort of cryogenic chamber?

  Terran science had played with the concept for decades, but the results had been even more disastrous than the Flosh drive.

  But that didn't mean it couldn't have been done here.

  I studied the faces of the five men inside. I laughed at myself. I had no way of telling if they were men or women or other genders I hadn't encountered yet.

  But all five were of different species. Two had scars down their faces. Could be something ceremonial or cultural, but the marks were jagged.

  Looked random, like from a fight.

  All five looked tough. Hard, even unconscious in their pods.

  Pods.

  Wasn’t that what the one guard had been afraid of?

  Could it have something to do with this?

  A soft beep let me know that the cloning unit had finished its job. Thank goodness.

  I twisted away from the navigation panel and slid the gem back into its slot in my bracelet. Definitely would need to get one of these things. Useful, even if I’d rather not spend too much time in a future where I needed to be carrying such devices all the time.

  My jaw ached from holding it so tightly against the sleeping gas.

  I couldn't wait to get off the ship, back to Valtic. Back to safety.

  I slid open the bridge door and began to retrace my steps, but was suddenly jerked back.

  “Don't know what you are,” the bull-creature slurred, “but you ain't supposed to be here.”

  His fingers caught the back of my dress in a massive fist, and nothing I could do was going to get loose.

  Dammit. This was my own fault. I've been so worried that my clothes would be torn, ripped away, leaving me defenseless, that we'd gone through every outfit in the costuming room, until we found this particular dress.

  Loose and flowing, it didn't look like much, but unlike the rest of the gauzy fabrics, it wouldn't tear.

  At the time, it’d seemed like a good idea.

  At the moment, I would've suffered a little insult to my modesty if it would allow me to escape.

  “Let me go,” I turned and begged, but all I got was a clear look at the unmarked black uniform the guard wore. Nothing indicated Enclave or Dominion.

  Nothing at all. Just a wall of muscle with no interest in letting me go.

  “Don’t make me do this,” I sobbed, my hand already reaching into the hidden pocket.

  His eyes narrowed. “Chances are good you'll be made to do lots of things, girly. You shouldn't be here. And you shouldn't have tried your tricks on me.”

  His disgusting words made me feel a tiny bit better about what I was about to do. But I still hated it.

  I jabbed my last syringe into the muscle of his forearm and shoved the plunger down.

  “What the—” his eyes widened as he stared at his arm.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured, then tore free.

  But I couldn't outrun his screams as the toxin began to burn through his veins.

  I mashed the emergency button over and over again, the last gem of the bracelet blinking a frantic red.

  I needed Valtic.

  I needed him now.

  I couldn't do this. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking.

  I made it to the outer door that the guards had used when they dragged me into the ship. It seemed like hours and hours ago, but surely had b
een far less than that.

  “Open, you stupid thing,” I begged, swiping the card that had worked for the bridge over and over through the slot.

  But it wouldn’t budge.

  Why would they a have different code to get out?

  I don't know, Lynna, I chided myself. You've got security codes on the external doors of the Rogue Star, don't you?

  “Please work.” I swiped it again.

  Still nothing.

  “Lynna,” Valtic’s voice rang out. “Stand back from the door, well back.”

  Shocked, I froze, then hurried to obey.

  Immediately, so perfectly timed he must've been watching my position on his tablet, a deafening clang filled the air as the door blew off its seal and smashed into the opposite wall.

  Valtic strode through the smoking door like a warrior god and I ran for his arms.

  “Where are they?”

  “It's done,” I whispered. “We should go now. I want to go.”

  “Something scared you.”

  His eyes roved over the corridor as if waiting for someone to emerge and fight him, challenge him.

  I ran my fingers down his face until his attention snapped back to me.

  “Please take me away from here.”

  In a flash, his expression changed. “Of course.” He glanced at my bare feet. “You can't run like that. Hold on.”

  He swung me into his arms, cradled me against his chest, and then dove out the hatch onto the dark dock and sprinted into the night.

  I strained my ears for the sound of weapons, of pounding feet.

  There was nothing.

  “I don’t think anyone is chasing us,” I murmured into his chest.

  “Doesn’t matter.” His low voice rumbled in my ear where I’d pressed against him. “We’re sticking to the plan.”

  We entered the Skimmer and it roared to life. Within minutes, we were in a more populated area of the station, and he parked it on a corner. He rummaged through his satchel and handed me a pair of flat slippers. “Time for more later.”

  I nodded, happy to be in slightly more sensible shoes, and stepped out of the Skimmer. He handed me the next item. A long, loose, hooded gown, bright crimson with golden trim.

  Sliding the thin fabric over my dress, I hoped we’d planned right. Anyone seeing me would remember the dress, not the person inside.

  We hoped.

  Valtic grabbed my hand, pulling me into a narrow alley that let out onto a busy city street. He shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the outraged cries.