by K Bledsoe
Lenore stood, blaster in hand, staring down at the man, breathing heavily. Diarmin saw blood dripping down Lenore’s side and could tell she was favoring her left leg.
“Go,” he whispered. “What are you waiting for?” He was answered by Lenore taking two steps beyond the man to pick up the wand. She turned and began to leave but stopped. She looked back at the man, raised the blaster and fired point blank into his face.
Then she followed the same way out that Quinn had gone.
“When Quinn is safe, show me how to erase these security recordings,” Diarmin said.
“He just left. I can start erasing.”
“No, I’ll do it. You make sure Quinn and the others make it here safely. Reroute any law enforcement and do whatever needs to be done.”
She raised an eyebrow at her father, but he was adamant. He did not want her to see her mother kill a man in cold blood.
Chapter Thirty-three
Despite her multiple injuries, Lenore caught up to the group of children before they entered the building where the family shuttle waited. She called to Quinn, who was carrying the boy. The look of relief on his face was brief as Lenore herded the lot inside with a quick glance behind to make sure there were no followers.
She kept an eye and her stolen blaster on the entrance as the slow elevator made its way to them at ground level. No one. How long could this luck hold?
“In. To the roof.” She knew she was curt and demanding, but it worked as the oldest girl punched for the roof.
“Need me to take the boy?” she asked her son.
“I’m fine,” he replied with a flicker of a smile. Privately, Lenore was glad. She knew she was coming close to the end of her reserves.
As the elevator pinged for the roof, Lenore felt a wave of dizziness but set her jaw. She never realized just how much she had depended on the implanted device for extra adrenaline and painkillers.
The doors opened, and the shuttle was in sight. They ran toward the ramp, Lenore right behind them even though her injured leg made running difficult. Not needing Allison’s urging, standing at the door beckoning them in, they clambered in quickly.
“Grab on to something,” said Allison as the engines fired. “The authorities are on their way, and we want to be gone before they get here.” She threw herself into the copilot’s chair next to Diarmin.
Lenore took the nearest seat and held her arms out for the boy. Quinn deposited him on her lap, and she wrapped the strap around both her and the toddler. Quinn pushed the two girls onto the other chair, strapped them in, then tucked himself behind the chairs, holding on to the brackets.
Diarmin launched the shuttle and immediately banked hard east. He pushed the engines to the maximum, accelerating for several heartbeats before he yelled.
“Hang on.”
The nose pointed straight up, and they headed for space, obviously intending to come back to the ship still at the spaceport from a roundabout way. Lenore glanced at the girls, but they were secure, pressed back into their seat and holding onto the arms of the chair as hard as they could. She craned her neck to check on Quinn who he was bracing himself well with his legs to keep from sliding and gripping to the brackets on the chairs. A wave of relief swept over her, and she felt dizzy again.
The shuttle leveled out, and Diarmin began the lazy turn to take them into the flow of other space vehicles heading to the port. Allison was punching keys on the comp, most likely erasing any video feeds of the shuttle.
In what seemed like no time at all, they were docking with the yacht which awoke Lenore from a brief doze. Quinn stood up shakily and went to unstrap the girls, but the older one had already found the release. They all filed off the ship and into the cargo bay. Before the shuttle doors closed, Allison ran over to Quinn and enveloped him in a hug. She mumbled something, muffled by her face buried in his chest while a surprised Quinn hugged her back just as fiercely.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Quinn.” She pulled away, tears running down her face. Diarmin joined in as well.
Lenore smiled. She had such a wonderful and talented family and was never prouder. She gently set the boy down and started to limp toward her husband and children. She only had time for a couple steps before she pitched headlong to the floor and all went dark.
Chapter Thirty-four
Lavan felt a smile cross his face, and then realized it had been a long time since he had genuinely felt happy. Amala was coming to visit him shortly, and for the first time ever, he was grateful to Hahn.
Not that anything happened that first day. It had taken Lavan nearly half an hour to convince the poor girl that he had no desire to abuse her as the prince had demanded. He had sat her on the bed and took a chair across the room, trying to appear nonthreatening. As he had talked about inconsequential things, she stopped trembling and began to realize he had no designs on her virginity. They had talked for over two hours and decided to pretend they had done what the prince wished to keep her from being punished.
To keep up the façade, Lavan had asked if she could be given a job in the palace so he could continue to see her. Thom made a rude comment about “use her, you mean,” but the prince got her a job as a helper in the kitchen. Amala had visited Lavan every day since.
After reassuring her that there were no monitors in the room and no possible way Hahn could know the truth, she relaxed and became quite an enjoyable friend. She was as fascinated with history as Lavan, and their conversations often were stimulating debates over books they had both read.
Lavan quickly set up a strategy game that she said she loved to play. Hahn had never had patience for anything that wasn’t physical, so Lavan was looking forward to playing it with Amala. A knock on the door made his heart lift, and he barely fought down the smile in case Hahn was watching.
He opened the door to a subdued Amala, head bowed, and hands clasped in front. A glance of the outer room showed Hahn glaring at them, arms crossed. Lavan motioned Amala to enter and nodded soberly to Hahn before he closed the door.
The change in Amala was instant. A smile lit up her face, and Lavan returned the look with an even bigger grin.
“I am glad to see you,” she said. She noticed the game board and clapped her hands. “Oh, you remembered!”
“Of course I did,” said Lavan, trying to ignore the squeeze of his heart at her delight. “Shall we play?”
An hour later, she had beat him and began teasing about his lack of skill.
“Hey, I think I did fine considering I have only ever played the game twice. Well, with another person, that is,” he said.
For some reason she thought this was hilarious and broke out into laughter but covered her mouth when Lavan put his fingers to his lips.
“I wish we didn’t have to be so careful,” he said. “But it’s better not to give Hahn any reason to think we aren’t, well, you know.”
“Yes. He scares me whenever he looks at me,” said Amala. “I always feel that he is watching for any indication to accuse me of anything.”
“He does that to everyone. I still find it hard to ignore.” Lavan didn’t like the serious mood and changed the subject. “So, you were going to tell me yesterday about your little brother.”
She giggled, and her smile returned. “Georgie has this habit of dressing up like the heroes in whatever entertainment is popular. Usually the costumes look normal, like a detective or attorney. But last week he dressed up as a fictional character, cape and everything.”
As she went on to describe his costume, Lavan was trying so hard to contain his laughter that he slid off the bed, cracking his head on the floor. Stunned, he focused his gaze on Amala leaning over him, a concerned look on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked, brow furrowed with concern.
He sat up, his face coming within inches of hers. “It was worth it,” he said softly. He so wanted to close the distance between them, but he had sworn she was safe from that kind of attention.
The point became
moot when she leaned forward to kiss him. It wasn’t very long but left Lavan breathless.
“I really like you, Lavan,” she said, blushing.
“I like you, too,” he replied and was bold enough to kiss her again.
Chapter Thirty-five
Diarmin noticed Lenore’s eyelids flutter, and he knew she would be waking up soon. He quickly detached all the IVs and backed away from the medbed. Sure enough, her eyes flew open and she sat up instantly, hands coming up into a defensive position and body tensing. She did better than he thought, stopping herself before sliding off the bed into a fighting crouch. Or maybe she just felt the damage a bit more this time.
“Everything is fine,” he said, knowing it would be the first question and then continued answering before she could ask. “Quinn is doing well, no injuries but a few bruises and a bit of dehydration from the electrical shocks. The collars, which we removed after finding the wand you picked up, targets the pain receptors so very little voltage actually runs through the wearer. It also sends drugs when turned off to counter any damage to the body. Rather ingenious but Quinn would argue otherwise.”
Lenore gave a humorless snort and shifted around. Diarmin grabbed an extra pillow to help her get comfortable, noting each grimace of pain.
“You, however, sustained quite the long list of problems. Not only severe electric shock but various wounds including a leg that needed extra bonding treatment, and a huge chunk taken out of your side that barely missed anything vital.” He mimed with his thumb and forefinger just how close, trying to ignore his stomach clench as he remembered each injury and the fear he had felt when she passed out. He sat on the bed after arranging the pillow behind her back, wanting to hold her but just glad to be looking into her eyes. She smiled back.
“I didn’t worry you, did I? I think that’s the first time I have ever lost consciousness, well, since we’ve met.”
“Losing this didn’t help.” He held up the blackened ruin of her Xa’ti’al medplant. “I don’t know how you managed, but it was tucked into your belt along with the wand for the slave collars.”
“Habit I guess. I don’t really remember after…” she trailed off, a frown crossing her face.
Diarmin lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “I saw.”
Lenore’s eyes widened slightly then narrowed. “Saw?”
“Allison hacked into the security feeds after your signal went dark. They had blocked outgoing signals, but she had the codes from her downloads. We saw the fight and then she helped Quinn and the kids by locking doors, rerouting guards and traffic.”
“I see.” Lenore’s eyes were unreadable. “I was wondering why nobody followed us.”
“I erased the video since she was busy.” He paused, not sure if he wanted to say out loud the chill he got when she shot the slaver. “I saw you pick up the wand, Allison didn’t. Then it was over and next thing I knew, you were coming out of the elevator.”
“Okay,” Lenore looked away.
They were both silent for several heartbeats. As the moments ticked by, Diarmin tried to think of something to say, but Lenore beat him to it.
“I had to. The man saw my face. He would never have given up looking. And…” she paused, still not looking at Diarmin. “He knew what the implant was. He knew it was a Xa’ti’al device. He could have turned me in to them.”
Her wooden voice told Diarmin that she wasn’t really trying to convince him. She was justifying her actions to herself. He knew she would be wrestling with that choice for a while, so he wisely let it drop without comment.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Diarmin cleared his throat and gave her a wink and grin. “Well, while you’ve been snoozing, Allison and I have been going over the downloads. She got quite a bit before they detected the scanner and so rudely threatened to execute us.”
Lenore turned back, a small smile on her face, appearing grateful for the change of topic. “Mine cut off midstream, probably when they blocked the signal. Didn’t look like we got that much.”
“Ah, but remember the download went to the shuttle first, then bounced to you. There is a significant amount of information, and Allison has also found some entries most likely pertaining to the princess’s abduction.”
“Already?” She correctly read his hesitation. “How long was I out?”
“A day and a half.”
“What?! You let me sleep when—” she tried to stand, and his hand on her chest was enough to keep her in place. More proof of her debility.
“I had no choice, you were…I don’t know how you made it back,” his panic at the memory surfaced again. “And without this,” he waved the medplant a bit wildly, “you are lucky to even be alive.”
“Yes, well, I did, so let’s move on.” Her eyes looked at his restraining hand and back at him.
Diarmin gritted his teeth at her gruff tone but said nothing as he pulled back his hand. He knew she wouldn’t talk about it. Lenore slowly swung her legs over the side, taking her time standing. He held out an arm, ready to steady her if needed.
“How is Quinn dealing with it all?” she asked softly as she grabbed the clothes Diarmin had brought earlier.
“Putting on a brave face but,” Diarmin shook his head. “I can tell he is, well, not damaged, I don’t think but…changed.” His voice caught as he spoke.
Lenore just nodded. “That kind of experience would affect anyone, especially a youngster.” She shoved her arms and legs into the clothing so fiercely Diarmin was surprised it didn’t tear.
“He’ll get through it. He has you.” The words seemed trite, but he knew Lenore blamed herself, and it was the only consolation he could offer.
She didn’t meet his eyes, lips so tightly pressed together they were almost unseen. Diarmin felt the reaction was more than just guilt. Most likely something from her past. Again.
She pulled on soft ship shoes and headed for the door, slow but steady, her set jaw indicating discomfort.
“Let’s see that data.”
As they climbed the ladder to the bridge, Diarmin felt the vibrations of the ship’s engines starting. He consulted his wristcomp. Yep, it was time. Lenore glanced down at him, eyebrow raised.
“Allison estimated that it would take the slavers around forty-eight hours to track us down, so I told her in thirty-six we would move.” Lenore said nothing, so he continued. “She is prepping, and I will pop us out somewhere long enough for Alli to change our ID again and come back. Oh, I found a tracker.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a small tracking device in the air. “It looks to have been placed before the rescue, so my guess is some local tagging ships.”
Lenore sighed. “One in every port.”
They reached the bridge and Lenore nodded at him. “Where’s the data?”
“Mom!” The whirlwind that was Allison launched herself out of the command chair and in two bounds reached and flung her arms around Lenore. Diarmin could see Lenore wince slightly from pain, but she hugged Allison back just as hard.
“I was scared, you fainted, and Quinn was so tired, and they shot at me. Shot…at…me. But you’re fine, Dad’s fine, we’re all fine, and I am keeping busy, you know cause that’s the best way to get through, you always say, and I dug deep….”
Lenore smiled through the torrent of speech.
“Good job, little firecracker,” said Lenore as she put her arm around her daughter and led her to the console.
“Now why don’t you fill me in on what you found while Dad pilots the ship?”
Diarmin was quiet. They had safely made it out.
This time.
Chapter Thirty-six
Jonah tossed and turned in bed. His mind kept returning to the main news story in all the feeds, a “terrorist attack on a local private dining club.” It had appeared to be the usual drama that always occurred in any city on any planet, but something about the news reports kept nagging at him.
He glanced at the time and groaned. Still hours before he usually got u
p for work. This was the third time he had awakened from a fitful sleep. He mentally reviewed the stories, down to the last he saw, a thirty second mention and reward for any information.
Jonah began to drift off again, but suddenly sat bolt upright in bed as it struck him.
There were no tapes of the event. Somebody had been erasing the logs.
While this wasn’t unheard of, it was rare enough that it stuck with him, causing him to get up, make some strong caf and leave for work long before his shift started. He sat in the corner, ignoring Ginette who was completely uninterested in what Jonah was looking for. Even with his access codes, supposedly the highest on the planet, he could find nothing specific on either the attack or the club itself. He leaned back, considering this, when the latest story came on the feed.
This time there was a video of the culprits racing away from the building. A concerned citizen had recorded them running on her personal comp, and the two figures were now wanted by the authorities. The picture wasn’t perfect but clear enough.
The cloaked figure was the woman the Companion hired, the one who he believed to be a Xa’ti’al. Did that mean the club was part of the slave ring? He swore under his breath. They were good at removing all the security tapes but, as he knew from long experience, there was very little anyone could do about personal comps. And now they were wanted fugitives which would make meeting them that much harder.