by Elin Wyn
“You promised,” I chided as I pulled the vials we’d kept in reserve off the shelf. I grabbed the injector, put it all into the bag I still wore.
She shrugged. Not much of one, just a millimeter of movement from her shoulders, but it was clear.
"Figured it could wait till after the mission. Wanted to do that at least." Ronan stood at the door looking between the two of us, face grave.
I stopped at Loree’s bedside, held her hand. I didn't check her pulse, look for vitals. We’d passed that point. “I'll meet you down there.” Squeezed her fingers. “And you need to have a talk with someone.”
I left the stateroom, wrapping myself in ice and steel, convinced I would shatter with every step.
Ronan followed me without asking. And I was grateful. He couldn't help. Not now. But afterwards I’d need him, need his strength. I wanted to sleep, to cry or scream. But none of those was an option.
When we reached the compartment that held the status chambers his brothers had been trapped in, I went straight to the last one in the line.
By that point, I'd figured the operations pretty well. At least some of it. Hopefully enough.
I hit the buttons to start filling it up.
"Nadira, what are you doing?"
My eyes fell closed as I leaned against the machine. I still didn’t know everything about how it worked. This could go horribly wrong. Loree and I had discussed it. She’d been the one to bring it up, to insist, regardless of the risks.
Even a small chance of survival was better than none. And that’s what she had. At this point, she’d gone without treatment for so long, even discovering a hidden cache of her medicine wouldn’t save her.
“Once upon a time, years ago, hours ago, I promised you we’d find a way to take these with us when we escaped. I need the same promise from you now.”
Ronan slipped his arms around me, pulled me back into the comfort of his chest.
“She’s dying. And I can’t do anything. Certainly not here, maybe not anywhere.”
The beep of the chamber recalled my attention. I checked it over. It looked right. Maybe. “I’m buying her time.”
“Whatever you need. Whatever she needs. You’re a part of the Pack now, both of you.”
Xander strode in, Loree, wrapped in blankets from the bed, cradled in his arms.
“She insisted we come down, but you’re not putting her in that thing.”
“Do you want her to die?” I snapped.
“How do you know you’re not killing her?”
“Stop it.” The frailty in her voice shattered me. I’d have let her hit me with a damn rock, if I thought she still had the strength to throw it.
“Xander, it’s my choice.”
“But you could die in there.” Pain braided with rage in his words.
“That’s possible.” Tears welled in her eyes. “But it’s certain that I’m dying out here.”
“That’s it. You’re upsetting my patient.”
I forced myself to reach for her. He stepped away, until her voice cut through the air.
“This isn’t your choice, Xander. It’s mine.”
“This is what you want?”
“No, but it’s what has to be done.”
A shudder ran across his shoulders and his jaw tightened. “You don’t know what it’s like…”
She put her hand over his mouth.
“Don’t tell me. I don’t need to be scared any more than I already am. I need to live.”
“I would do anything for you.”
“I know. And I’m asking you to let me rest.”
He walked to the side of the tank, and I helped unwind the blankets from her legs.
“Hold her while I put her under.”
He nodded, staring at her head tucked into his chest.
“The system is automatic, but you’ll have to breathe the gel. It’s not going to be pleasant.” I warned her.
“What else is new?”
I hit her with a round of muscle relaxants, pain-killers, and anything else I thought would make the transition easier.
Soon I was sure the drugs had reached their peak. “Ready?”
She nodded limply.
Xander gently lowered her until she floated on top of the blue gel. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She cracked her eyelids open, gave him the last of her smiles. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Do it, alpha bitch. Don’t let those guys bully you, okay?”
My throat stuck, and I had to force the words out. “Not a chance. See you in a bit.”
One button to close the lid on her.
One button to continue filling the tank.
And nothing to stop my tears as I watched.
Her body fought to breathe, struggled and convulsed as the gel filled her throat, her lungs.
“Let her out!” Xander demanded. “It’s not working!”
He dodged for the control panel, but Ronan held him fast from behind. “Don’t be an idiot.”
You wouldn’t have known Xander was aware of anyone in the room other than Loree, and, as her struggles subsided, he stopped fighting Ronan, defeated.
“I’m done. Let me go.”
I moved to the other side of the tank, one eye on the two of them, while I used the handheld monitor from medbay to check her vitals.
My breath caught as I couldn’t get a reading at all. Slowly, I adjusted for the gel, for the housing of the tank.
“She’s stable.”
“Get out,” Xander growled.
Ronan snarled, ready to defend me, his authority, something.
It didn’t matter.
“We will.” I took Ronan’s hand, more than ready to go. “But we’ll be back for her when it’s time to get off this damn ship. And, someday, when we’ve found someone who can cure her, I’ll wake her up. So try not to hate me too much, okay?”
The trip to the secure area took a lifetime.
“He didn’t mean it,” Ronan said, after we finally got back to our quarters. “He’s just upset.”
“He did. I don’t blame him. Right now, I hate me a little, too.”
Ronan let me wallow in my misery for a day, but, when Quinn requested another all-hands briefing, he dragged me out to the makeshift conference room.
The single chair placed by me, alone with the brothers, was another stabbing reminder that Loree was gone.
For now, I told myself. Just for now.
“What’s going on? Do you have navigational control of the ship restored?” Ronan asked.
Quinn looked exhausted. “That’s the thing. Even with the blocker in place and the tentacles cut, the destination is locked into the ship’s system. The blocker keeps any new commands from coming in, but I can’t get to the navigation system itself.”
He leaned his head back against the wall, and I had the urge to offer him my chair.
“Maybe Loree could do it, but right now, the only way to override the programmed destination is from the bridge.”
The words were a kick in the gut. “After all of that… It was for nothing?”
“Not at all.” A decisive shake of the head. “It’s a step forward. If we’d managed to get into the bridge before, it wouldn’t have mattered if we hadn’t taken out the aux control. And being sure that whoever is calling the shots from the compound can’t change the rules as we go is a nice step.”
“But we still can’t change where we’re going,” Aeden commented.
“Not yet. We’ve got two options. Wait to see if anyone responds to the distress call, or find their Darts. The Hunters brought us, brought those people on board in something. It’s got to still be here.”
“Sure you’d trust flying in one of their ships?” Ronan rumbled.
“With the code Loree left,” Quinn took a look at Xander’s stormy expression, then hurried on, “I think I can make sure if any of the systems are clean.”
Ronan scrubbed his beard. “Alright. Split up. Paired teams. We’ve got a lot to d
o. Geir, Xander, look for any shuttles, Darts. Whatever is here, find it. Scour this ship. Aeden, Hakon, work on the door to the bridge. Find tools, cut through if you can.”
He stopped, considered. “Quinn, Lorcan, monitor the comms records - see if there’s any further transmissions, clues to what the hell happened on this thing. We’re still too much in the dark.”
The pairs filtered out, and he called after them. “Stay in your teams. Assume we’re still infested with Hunters.”
“But, surely their heat signs would show on the monitor?” I protested, thoroughly sick of being trapped in the secure area.
“Loree thought they would. They did in their charging room, that’s for sure. But we can’t know that. We’re not making mistakes.”
No one had gotten far when Quinn called everyone back.
"Time for plan C, or D, hell, I don’t know. We just got hailed by a ship.”
“Play it,” Ronan ordered.
“Pyrian Star, this is the Norvier. We’re responding to your distress call. Please prepare the women and children for evacuation.”
“No,” Geir snapped.
“Well, considering we don’t have any children, and we’re not separating from either of our women, it’s not an option,” Ronan answered him. “But it sounds like you’ve got a more specific reason in mind.”
“Doc sent me on a retrieval mission a few years back.” His hands reached for the weapons at his hip, then stopped suddenly, as if they’d moved before he realized it. “If we don’t answer, they’ll claim the ship as derelict, force an airlock, and try to take it.”
“They’re slavers.”
Ronan
Not exactly the rescue we wanted. “Damn it - you say we can’t just ignore it?”
“Well, you did say you wanted a ship. They have a ship.” Hakon joked. Maybe.
“You want us to turn pirate?”
“Only against slavers. That seems like a reasonable stipulation.”
“Fine.” I threw my hands into the air. “It’s been a hell of a few days. Why not add piracy to the list?”
“My sisters and I are from the convent of the blessed Dargon. Perhaps you’re a follower?” Nadira’s voice crackled through the comms while we listened in, waiting.
A sputter, then silence. “No, ma’am. But I’d love for you to tell me all about it when we get you safe on board.”
“We’re on our way to form a new chapter house on Varion-seven to help spread the word, but our shuttle failed, and the nice men here were able to take us in.”
“What happened to the crew?”
“Unfortunately, the pilot and captain got into a quarrel. Something about a bet. That’s a terrible thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t have to call me ma’am, I’m just a novice. My sisters have taken both the veil and the pledge of silence.” A long pause. “You don’t gamble, do you?”
A cough. “No, miss, of course not.”
Aeden sank to his haunches, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.
“That’s good. I’ve been trying to follow along with a manual, but it’s not working.”
“Sure thing, little lady. You just open up the airlock, and let us take care of things from there.”
Little lady. I’ll kill him. Just as soon as I get out of my “sister” get-up.
The slavers were expecting women. And since we weren’t risking either of ours as decoys, we’d had to rely on disguises.
Nothing elaborate, there’d been no time. Instead, we’d torn the aged clothing we found into long strips, and wrapped ourselves in semblances of hooded gowns, complete, of course, with veils.
It was a crappy plan. The veils did a reasonable job of covering our scruffy faces, but only an idiot or a desperate man would look at us and think we were women.
Luckily, it sounded like we were dealing with idiots.
Quinn had stayed with Nadira, relaying her messages to the crew of the slaver. He’d guard her, but I’d be damned if any of them were stepping foot out of this docking bay.
“Do you see anything in that manual for a procedure for soft docking?”
“I’m not sure how all of this works!”
Don’t over play it, babe, I snarled, but apparently the jerk on the other end of the line thought women really were that dumb.
“Oh, there it is.”
Standing by the airlock, we felt the slight jar as the cable sprung out from the hull of the Star and connected with the slaver’s hull.
“Good job, miss. Now, extend the gangway, let it pressurize, and we’ll be right over to assist you.”
Assist her and her mythical sisters into a bonded whorehouse, more likely. If their victims were ‘lucky’, they might be bought for a single owner.
Even though there was no chance they’d get near Nadira, rage burned through my veins.
“Sir.” Geir stood stiff as a panel of permisteel, making my own spine straighten in sympathy. “What do we do if they already have cargo?”
It took a moment to snap to what sort of cargo he meant. “If there are women already abducted, we find their homes, return them. But these assholes came out all this way on just a chance. I’d bet their holds are empty. If they’d had a good run, they wouldn’t have bothered with us ‘sisters.’”
His shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. “That would be for the best.”
“Damn straight.” I shoved down the urge to tear off the annoying skirts wrapped around my legs. How the hell Nadira managed to walk in this sort of get-up was nothing short of a mystery. “We’ve had enough complications. Don’t go borrowing trouble until it finds us.”
“Yes, sir.” He moved off, not looking particularly relaxed, but then again, Geir never did. I glanced at Xander. He was the reliable joker in the Pack, but not now. As long as he could channel his fire into cutting through our enemies and getting Loree to safety, it would be useful, if it didn’t burn him up inside.
They’d only send a small boarding party, I knew. That’d be how I’d do it. Just enough to round up the goods and get them on the ship, while a second team stayed by the controls, ready to jump at a moment's notice.
The trick would be to get on board and keep them from jumping. For some reason, Hakon had been clear that he’d take care of the engines, and would I please stay out of it.
I listened as the slaver talked Nadira through extending the gangway, pressurizing it, releasing the airlocks.
I signaled to the Pack. Let's move back, make them work for it.
Geir alone stayed tucked into a shadowed spot close to the airlock.
The rest of us clustered in a corner. Easily seen, but they'd have to cross the wide expanse of the cargo bay to get to us.
“Captain,” Nadira’s sweet voice came through the earcomm. "You are the captain, aren't you? I feel sure of it."
“That’d be me. Zook Norman, at your service.”
“I'm sure it's beneath you, but if you can come over with your men, I'm sure my sisters will feel better about it. I feel like I know you.”
Captain Norman laughed. I didn't care for the sound.
“Sure thing, little lady. Let your sisters know that your friend is coming to get them.”
“Wonderful.”
We waited. I hate waiting. I’m heading into a fight, I want to jump in, get it done, get out.
This waiting, hoping that all of Norman's men were as stupid as he was, wasn't my idea of a good time.
But a ship with a working jump drive. That was worth some waiting, even if I ground my teeth doing it.
Finally, the airlocks slid open. From our vantage point, I could see through the tunnel of the gangway as the slavers came sauntering over like they owned the place.
Six scruffy men, decked out in enough jangles and shiny bobs to put out your eye in an honest fight. I figured the captain was the one with the most glitter on him. Middle- aged, a scar ran down the side of his face that I sincerely hoped was a souvenir from an
angry ‘passenger’. Once he might have had a good fighting body, but apparently he’d fallen into an easy life, let himself run to fat.
The far airlock was still open. Sloppy, but not surprising.
Nadira’s mythical sisters-of-whatever might have been willing to meekly follow them on board, but I'd bet most of their cargo went screaming and fighting every step of the way.
Opening and closing the airlock with your arms full of a resisting woman probably got old. And we’d use that sloppy habit of theirs against them.
The last of their group stepped into the cargo bay and came towards us, and Geir flitted silently through the gangway to their ship. They never saw it, their eyes fixed on the prizes waiting for them in the back of the cargo bay.
I put my attention back on Captain Idiot and his band of merry men.
Only one of his crew looked around the bay with a flicker of interest, maybe a bit of caution. But it didn’t take long before he trotted to keep up with his group. Undisciplined, slack, the lot of them.
Their only advantage was the high-powered blasters they wore, casually strapped to their hips.
Still, we could take them. Hell, any one of us could take the entire pitiful group.
“All right, ladies. I'm Captain Norman. I know you sisters can’t speak to me, your friend the novice explained that…”
He trailed off as he approached.
Apparently our disguises weren't doing much anymore. With a growl, we sprang, ripping off the stupid, binding lengths of fabric as we went.
Aidan had argued for placing snipers to pick them off as they entered, but I'd overruled it.
First, if for some reason Geir’s assignment didn't go to plan, hostages wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Second, Nadira’s eyes. Slavers might be scum, but we weren’t executioners. She'd seen too much violence already. This time, maybe she’d see there could be mercy on the Fringe. Or, at least, justice.
“Damnit!” the captain shouted. “It’s a trap!”
His men staggered back, and three of them had the sense to fold into an outward- facing triangle, blasting anything that moved.
Luckily for us, their sluggish reaction times were only matched by their pitiful aim.
Xander ran straight at them, rarely bothering to dodge, snagging the blaster of the closest opponent out of his hands. Flipping it, he wielded it like a club to bring the man down, then turned with a feral grin to the rest of the group.