Larissa patted the name scrawled into the arm before she dug through a desk where she hoped to find more data. “I hope we can help you, lady.”
By the point where she had to call time, Larissa was frustrated at the lack of any other solid leads or data, and she could tell Samell was equally unhappy. “I don’t know if we can do any more here, do you?” she said as he joined her at the exit.
He shook his head. “No, I think, as you say, we need to seek out your authorities away from this world and try to raise interest in pursuing this case.”
The back of her neck tingled, a soldier’s sixth sense warning her something was wrong. Holding a finger to her lips, she said, “We’re going out the other door, just in case.”
Larissa worked her way to the opposite end of the warehouse, Samell on her heels, and slipped silently out the barely open portal and into the brush surrounding the storage complex. Larissa scouted ahead on the path to where she’d hidden the speedster and found no problems, no ambush, no one lying in wait. Still, her nerves were on edge as she and Samell mounted the bike and took off. She flew low and silently, lights off, relying on her special night vision implants.
Three speedsters dropped from the cloud cover, surrounding them, and she had to zig and abruptly accelerate as stunner beams arced across her path. Only her heightened reflexes saved them from disaster. Flying as fast as she could push the speedster, she yelled over her shoulder, “If we can make it to the ship, the Valkyrie’s AI can target these guys. We get inside the ship, we’re safe.”
“I wish my aim was better,” he said. “I think I winged one.”
She heard his blaster sizzle as he tried another shot, but she kept her concentration on flying. She thought they might make it to the ship’s defensive perimeter, but two more speedsters came zooming up to join the chase. She was caught in a crossing stream of stunner fire and lost control of their bike. The speedster bucked and spiraled away from her, flying into the night sky.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Samell plummeting toward the ground as two of the enemy swooped in to catch him in a tangle net. Terrified for him, she was distracted and caught in the sticky threads of another one, helpless to defend herself as the stun charge had disabled her entire nervous system. She was dropped to the turf none too gently, falling in an uncomfortable heap next to Samell, whose face was averted.
Hoping he was okay, Larissa convulsed as she was subjected to a second stun charge. Pain and nausea filled her entire consciousness and drove out thought.
One of the thugs pushed her in the ribs with the toe of his boot before squatting to examine her face more closely, comparing what he was seeing to a tiny vid he held in his hand. “Yeah, this is the one Kinterow was hoping we’d find with our missing seer. He’ll be happy we bagged her.”
“He’ll be more pleased we got this guy,” said the other man as he bound the unconscious Samell’s wrist and ankles with force cuffs. He drew the silvery headband Samell had been forced to wear before, or an exact duplicate, and fitted it tight around his head. “The masters said we had to get him back at all costs so it’s a good thing Kinterow’s hunch played out and these two showed up here.”
The men moved to bind Larissa next, doing a cursory pat down for weapons after she was cuffed.
“Yeah, well, I wish the targets had arrived sooner, but at least now we can get off this dump of a planet. Hand them over and move on. Thought we were going to be here the rest of our lives, waiting.”
She realized the man speaking was one of the card players she’d met earlier in the day. Kinterow had invested a lot of effort into setting up this ambush, on the off chance she and Samell might walk into his trap one day. The stakes must be high in whatever game he was playing.
Larissa and Samell were loaded onto a flyer that touched down close by, thrown onto the floor while one man took a seat where he could watch them, his weapon at the ready. The effect of the double stun charge was wearing off and she asked with a thick tongue, “Where are you taking us?”
Their guard gave her an unpleasant leer, revealing his yellowed teeth. “You’ll see, sweetheart. Nowhere good.”
Larissa watched him as unobtrusively as possible but had no opportunity to make any kind of a move. Eventually, he checked their bonds before strolling forward to talk to the pilot.
As soon as he walked away, Samell rolled closer to her, and brushed her fingers with his, behind her back. “Are you all right?” he said, his voice low.
She squeezed his hand as best she could. “Mad. Bruised. You?”
“The same.”
“Can you zap them with the death song?”
“Not with this damn restrictor. I can barely talk, let alone use my powers.”
“Stay frosty,” she said, as much to him as to herself. “Force knife in my left boot – can you reach it?”
She held still while he contorted himself to get into position and remove the weapon, then awkwardly slashed the bonds at her wrists. She grabbed the knife from him, hastily freeing her ankles before grabbing the restrictor off his head. “Sing!” She slashed his bonds as he followed her order, and he closed his hand on her wrist to keep her safe from the song’s effect.
The guard burst from the cabin, one hand pressed to his head, firing his weapon in their direction as he went to his knees. Larissa tore herself loose from Samell and rushed the man, seizing his weapon as he keeled over onto the deck. Samell cut his song off in mid note.
The flyer skewed from side to side wildly, and Larissa forced her way into the cockpit, dragging the dying pilot from the command chair and taking control herself, bringing the vehicle back to an even keel. She started a broad turn back to the planet, surprised at how far they’d come. “Musta blacked out for a bit,” she said under her breath.
Samell stuck his head into the tiny chamber. “What can I do?”
“Drag this guy out of my way, would you? We’ll see if either man has any identification then ditch them and this ship. So far Kinterow’s had all the angles covered so he might have a second or even a third plan in case we escaped. I’m not giving him any more chances at us.”
“I approve.” Samell hauled the corpse from the small area and quickly rejoined her.
“Seven hells.” Larissa cursed as the flyer bucked and the control panel shut down. She grabbed the arms of her chair as the craft rose vertically.
Samell braced himself in the corner, hands on both bulkheads. “What is it? What’s happening?”
“Tractor beam. We’re being taken aboard a Shemdylann ship, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She pushed herself from the seat, flicking off the safety on her blaster. “Come on, at least we can blast a few of them when they break in at the stern. Remember what I showed you, about their vulnerable points?”
He took a position next to her, using one of the forward facing bench seats as sadly inadequate cover. “Under the chin and where the neck meets the thorax.”
“Right.”
He laid his hand over hers. Startled, Larissa glanced at him. “I could not have asked Thuun for a better partner.”
“Likewise.” Bangs and metallic clanking against the hull told Larissa their small craft had landed inside the enemy ship. She took a deep breath, keeping her aim steady on the portal.
For a moment there was only silence, other than the sound of their breathing. Then, with a tremendous clatter, the portal was breached, but instead of the Shemdylann soldiers she expected, a round object was tossed into the ship, rolling toward them.
“Move!” She grabbed Samell’s arm and pushed him toward the cockpit, but it was already too late. The stun field generator clicked and extruded a field of sickly gray light in all directions. Her heart shuddered and stopped as the effect brushed her skin, and she fell bonelessly against Samell. Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint and then she knew no more.
CHAPTER SIX
When she regained consciousness, she realized with revulsion she was being carried by a Shemdylann
warrior, slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain, several of his smaller appendages holding her tight. Her cheek rested on the creature’s smooth, shiny carapace. Too weak to mount an effective resistance, she managed to turn her head to find Samell being similarly treated by another of the hulking alien warriors. His eyes opened as she watched and seeing his recognition of the situation was painful. She’d gotten him out of one perilous captivity and now allowed him to be dragged into another. They were deep in the bowels of a Shemdylann ship, and Larissa had to be ready for anything.
The hulking aliens were notorious slavers, who ate their captives on occasion and were known to enjoy torturing other sentients – anything could be thrown at Larissa and Samell. She wondered if the suicide “checkout code” in her head still worked, although she’d refuse to take the easy out until all hope was exhausted. She’d never leave Samell alive in their claws. She wished she was able to communicate with him mind to mind.
The Shemdylann soldier carrying her dropped her to the deck and Samell fell beside her.
“On your feet,” the alien said in guttural Basic. “Walk into the slave quarters.”
A third Shemdylann stood beside a large portal, one pincer resting on a lever. As Larissa and Samell rose to their feet, clinging to each other for balance, the alien moved the control and a portion of the door slid open. A soldier aimed his energy gun into the hold, presumably keeping other captives at bay, while Larissa’s captor shoved her forward. “Inside. You waste my time.”
The two of them stumbled across the threshold and the thick panel slid shut behind them.
“Lords of Space.” Larissa straightened and stared around her, conscious of Samell doing the same.
“By the grace of Thuun.”
She estimated there were easily three hundred Tulavarran men and women packed into the space. Larissa saw the awed expressions on those closest to her as they recognized her companion.
“Samell…Samell of Melgadarr…” The whispers spread through the cavernous chamber. People began to rise and crowd closer, trying to get a better look.
“We should move away from the door,” Larissa said in a low voice.
A man left the staring crowd and came to them, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I never thought to see you again.” The man embraced Samell and, after a shocked moment, Samell hugged him back. The two men pounded each other on the back in gruff affection.
“Nor I you, old friend.” Samell turned back to Larissa, keeping one hand around his friend’s shoulder. “This is Bartell—he was my classmate when we were training and head priest of one of the lake district temples at the time of the attack.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She kept a watchful eye on the crowd surrounding them. Who knew if all Tulavarrans were as well disposed to Samell?
“Come this way,” Bartell said. “We’ve gotten ourselves as organized as we can be since the first of us were dumped in here. There’s a makeshift table we’re using as an admin spot and an unclaimed mattress or two.”
He led the way through the space, as Samell’s fellow citizens pressed close, murmuring his name. A number of people came to greet him, several begging for a gift of healing energy. After the third one, Larissa tapped his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Go slow on the healing—we don’t have the full picture of what’s going on here yet, and you might need your reserves.”
Several people glared at her. Bartell frowned as well and opened his mouth to speak, but Samell acknowledged the suggestion. “Yes, you’re right, as usual. “
Larissa found herself on full protection detail alert as the small group worked their way to wherever their escort deemed a fit spot for Samell, who seemed to be universally known and admired. After observation, she didn’t think he faced any threat from his own people, but their deference and awe at his presence made her instinctively want to shield him.
Their progress was slow, although Samell didn’t pause to provide energy to anyone, he couldn’t go a foot without people coming to shake his hand or hug him. The Tulavarrans fell into two general categories—with the minority looking ill and badly used, thin, their skin color faded, and heavy scarring around their throats, as if they’d been made to wear restrictive collars. These people were all wearing plain gray tunics and pants, with slide-on shoes. The vast majority of the crowd, however, were hale and hearty, if a bit beaten and bruised. Their clothing was a colorful blend, ripped and dirty to be sure, but completely unlike the gray uniforms, and accented with intricate embroidery. Bartell was one of the healthier contingent, his clothing in good condition.
Larissa took note of a large cage in the far corner of the vast area, which appeared to hold a group of human males. She needed to see what their story might be, but not just yet. The higher priority was to stick with Samell and get an overview of the larger situation while she had the chance.
He tried to decline the single chair. “Why should I sit when everyone else must stand?”
“You’re the most senior person here, one of the highest ranking on Tulavarra itself,” Bartell said. “Many of us watched you get taken that bleak day and thought you were dead. The people are relieved you’ve survived—having you in charge is the best thing to happen to us, believe me. It’s fitting to your position for you to be seated.”
“I appreciate your confidence, old friend.”
Larissa placed herself behind the chair, at parade rest, scanning the crowd, missing nothing.
A woman in bedraggled finery rushed up, flinging her arms around Samell’s neck and kissing him on the cheek. “Thank Thuun for major mercies, bringing you here to me—I thought you were gone from my life forever,” she said. “When they said you’d arrived, I couldn’t believe it.”
“Lady Fidaya, I’m sorry to find you in this predicament,” Samell said, his voice sincere but to Larissa’s ears slightly formal.
Several others waited to speak to him. Here indeed were the high born ladies and beauties Larissa had always thought Samell would naturally be with. Even as she had the thought, several women nearby glanced at her and tittered. Right, emotion readers. Irritated with herself for allowing a flash of jealousy to distract her, Larissa straightened further and gazed over the crowd with her best blank expression, keeping her peripheral vision and all her senses alert for any threat to Samell.
“When did it become acceptable to read a guest’s aura and take amusement?” Samell said, pushing Fidaya away with actually appearing to do so. He rose from the chair and held out his hand to Larissa. Not knowing what else to do, she placed hers on his extended palm and he clasped her fingers, drawing her to stand beside him. “This is Larissa Channer,” he said, his voice ringing out across the crowded space. “My warrior, sent by Thuun to save my life and enable me to be here, where obviously there will be another battle to fight.” There were gasps and quickly smothered comments in the crowd.
Bartell stepped forward with a bow. “We welcome you, Lady Channer, although our greeting comes in such a strange place and time.”
“Call me Larissa.” She resisted the urge to inform them she was no lady, as a famous ancient times trideo star had once said. Jokes didn’t usually make it past cultural barriers. Her next words were serious, for Samell. “I understand there’s a lot of emotion in the room right now, but there’s no telling how much time we have before the Shemdylann return. We need a briefing. A concise briefing.” She directed the last remark to Bartell. “So we can plan.”
“My warrior pulls no punches, as she would no doubt say.” Samell obviously took pleasure in the idea, judging by the amused look on his face. “But she’s usually right. I want to see any persons of authority we have here, whether from town or temple, no matter what level, assembled by this table in the next five minutes. Then you’ll tell me what is known.”
People rushed to do his bidding. Larissa was reminded of a general walking into a staff meeting full of junior officers. Samell took command instinctively, and others were relieved to have him set the
tone. It wasn’t that he had a military bearing, but more the fact he was a forceful leader, for whom hesitation was a foreign concept. A man to be relied upon.
Fidaya stayed close, as did another woman identified as Zimeer, a priestess from Samell’s own temple. Larissa didn’t need the special Tulavarran powers to sense the hostility from these two, directed at her and at each other, as they vied for his attention.
He politely shook them off and drew Larissa to the side. “I apologize for my people’s behavior, scanning your aura without permission.”
“What can I do to prevent the intrusion? It’s an operational weakness I can’t afford now. I didn’t mind you knowing what I was thinking, but not everyone in my vicinity.” She blushed but refused to acknowledge her own discomfort in words.
“None of them can bend you to their will any more than I can,” he reminded her. “There is a way to shield, but it’s a hard-to-master Tulavarran skill.”
“Can you shield me?”
His eyes widened, but he titled his head in consideration. “I don’t know—it’s never been tried in living memory.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“I don’t think so. Here.” He maneuvered so he stood in front of her, blocking her from anyone else’s view, and rested his fingertips on her temples.
A low level tingling thrummed along her nerve endings, as if he was emitting a power charge of some type. Vaguely alarmed, she reached up to circle his wrists with her fingers, and they stood locked together as the tingling pulse of his power filled and consumed her. Her head felt light, and she had a flashback to her time inside Moratiu, floating with no body to call her own, and the blinding light. Blinking, she leaned against the bulkhead behind her, suddenly weak in the knees.
Samell caught her by the waist as she sagged. “Are you all right?”
“Excuse me.” Bartell cleared his throat.
Blinking, trying to focus, Larissa pointed at him. “Can you read my colors?”
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