Tray lay on the floor, panting, and Saskia scrambled out of the room on hands and knees. They had a rescue to finish, and she needed explosives. Lots of explosives.
34
Danny leaned against Sky’s leg, running his hands up and down her thighs trying to soothe himself, but nothing seemed to help anymore. Even Chase’s head on his lap triggered more pain than lust. His muscles seized and he hit his head against the bars. Chase lifted his head, then dropped it again, his eyes never opening. Danny and Sky had been taking turns acting as his pillow, but Danny was so frustrated, he couldn’t stop kicking.
“Come here,” Sky said, pulling him to his feet and throwing him against the bars. Danny cried out and nearly blacked out from the pain.
“Zive! Zive, mercy!” he shouted. He cursed his agnostic attachment to Zive. He used to believe whole-heartedly, then he’d believed passively. It wasn’t discovering the reality of spirit creatures that ruined the religion; it was the lifetime of unanswered prayers. But as his pain escalated, he couldn’t help calling out one more time.
The door opened and the Sir Magistrate stalked in, followed closely by Chief Torrance. Danny pounded on the cage with his forearms, cursing them in Zive’s name until Sky dragged him back.
“I thought you had the medicine!” Jeremiah cried. Switching back to Nolan, he hollered at his people, on a rampage to rival the Madame Magistrate. Stomping onto the platform, he kicked the rickety chair that his wife had sat on earlier.
“It’s more poison!” Danny hollered, pulling the needle and vial from the pouch. His hand wasn’t steady enough to administer the medicine, even if he believed it would work.
“Prince of Health, administer the medicine,” Jeremiah ordered one of the other men in the room. “Captain, you will sit so he can enter.”
A man in a blue, jeweled robe raised his eyebrows and hung back by the door. “You cannot order me to treat the one who attacked me.”
“I’ll do it,” Haren Gossard volunteered.
“He’s not the one—never mind,” Jeremiah said, holding up a hand. “Doctor Gossard, do it.”
“I don’t want that Questre touching me!” Danny hollered, throwing his shoulder against the bars. He knew it wouldn’t help to out the two-faced spirit-carrier, but Danny was at the end of his rope.
“Would the pills work? Do you have any more of those?” Sky asked the doctor.
“It would not help. The needle is not difficult to use. I will instruct you,” Haren said, coming closer to the cage than any of the Palace guards felt comfortable with. They all had their projectiles at ready. Sky forced Danny onto his stomach, and Danny’s whole body quivered. He felt Chase bracing his legs, then Sky jammed the needle into his thigh.
“Did that pill actually do anything?” Sky asked Haren.
“For you, yes,” Haren said, coming closer and dropping his voice.
“Why did you drug me and bring me here? I thought you wanted my help,” Sky said.
“You told them we kidnapped your kid,” Danny wailed, his body twitching. He felt even more on fire than before.
“It is the truth. Amanda took Layna and disappeared,” Haren said, his calm voice only fueling Danny’s rage.
“Amanda doesn’t have that power. Layna must have done it when she realized you betrayed us,” Sky said.
“I did not betray her. She trusts me,” Haren said.
“Did you mention to the Magistrate that your niece is a half-breed?” Danny ranted, raising his voice. “Did he mention that! You have a half-human, half-spirit flying around your city, and you’re worried about us!”
“Festival rage, Magistrate. He should calm down shortly,” Haren said, backing away from the cage.
“She’s just a kid, now. Just wait until she grows up. She’ll start raising the dead for her own amusement,” Danny shouted.
“Hey,” Sky said, bracing her arms across his chest. “You’re not helping.”
“Telling the truth is not helping?” Danny hollered, wrestling free of her. He tripped on Chase and Chase screeched, protecting his neck and hand.
“Chase! Chase, oh no. Chase,” Danny cried, feeling his rage swing to unbearable grief and guilt. “Look what you made me do! Why are you keeping us prisoner? No food. No toilet. You’re going to let us waste away?”
“I won’t. I’m doing everything Protocol allows to change your circumstance,” Jeremiah insisted.
Danny collapsed next to Chase and curled into a ball, tearing at his hair, overwhelmed by his emotions. He felt Sky massaging his shoulders, and it didn’t feel painful like before. “I’m sorry, Chase. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered.
“Where is this half-breed?” Jeremiah persisted, coming closer to the cage. “Captain—”
“Give me my bag and I can treat their injuries,” Sky said, pointing to her satchel.
“No,” Torrance said. “Not all of their weapons look like guns, Magistrate.”
Jeremiah picked up the satchel, looking for the opening, but he couldn’t find the zipper. Danny wasn’t sure the bag had a zipper. He’d never seen it seal like that before.
“There is no opening,” Jeremiah said.
“It wouldn’t be secure if just anyone could reach in,” Sky said. “You have done so much with your fabric. Have you not figured out how to lock it?”
“Don’t be coy,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been accused of assault, breaking and entering, and kidnapping. Tell me how to open it. Or tell me what you need, and the Prince of Health can get you something equivalent.”
“He was not accused of any of those things. He was cross-pairing with all the ladies like you wanted!” she said, pointing to Chase. “Your people dragged him on the ground with a noose.”
“After I told them he couldn’t walk!” Danny added, his voice high-pitched and strained.
“Let me handle my people,” Sky said. “The bag.”
Jeremiah frowned and hung the bag at the end of one of the noose poles, letting the guard shove it through a slat near the base of the cage. They’d just given her a grav-gun!
Sky retrieved the bag and knelt next to Chase. She pulled out a black rod and waved it over his hand until his breathing settled.
“That’s a Cordovan healing rod. They don’t give those to strangers,” Jeremiah said. “I thought you’d never been.”
“No. I said we couldn’t find it,” Sky said, sitting next to Danny and pulling his head onto her lap. Taking a Virp from her bag, she tucked it into his palm, hoping he could call for help.
“About the corporeal spirit. You’ve encountered one before?” Jeremiah asked.
“Recently. There’s a clan on Terrana,” Sky said.
“And they live in peace with the humans?” he asked.
“No,” Sky said. “One of them interfered with the government a little, but we put a stop to it.”
“You killed it?” he asked.
“We brought down the government,” Danny spoke up with a wicked smile. “If you want to avoid that fate, then I suggest you let us free.”
Jeremiah clenched his fist and stalked to the small closet passing for a situation room. Secretary Yolande Villon perched on one of the upturned bed frames, nursing a cup of tea.
“I can’t believe you gave her the bag,” she said, laughing incredulously. Her hair was still yellow from Festival, but her attire was muted and professional.
“I can’t believe there is a cage in my Festival hall!” Jeremiah cried, finding the teapot and pouring himself a cup.
“They’ve shot four people!” she cried. “That we know of. Only one of them was seen going back to the ship. The others are all rogue, running around the city, breaking into houses, kidnapping people. We’re going to evict them as soon as we know they’re healthy! If we release this bunch to the ship, they’re just going to gather more weapons and come storming back in to collect the rest.”
“Or take down the government.” Jeremiah was still reeling from the influx
of half-finished reports. Protocol dictated that he could not reverse Collette’s order without her being present or being declared incompetent. Her absence had left him in a difficult spot. Jeremiah didn’t want his wife to be declared incompetent.
“Maybe we can send a broadcast and let the others know they’re safe,” he said.
“Festival poisoning leads to paranoia. You saw how the Captain resisted our attempts to help him,” she said. “But Madame Magistrate would have to give the order, as this is her docket.”
“Unless… the council…” he stammered.
“The princes are here. The doctors are here. The Magistrate needs to be present for a proper medical examination,” Yolande said. He could see in her eyes that she had reservations.
“Why would she leave the Palace? I know it wasn’t for a morning run,” he said.
“Dispatch called. She was seen by the river, but she didn’t stay. I guess she wanted to see the textile building,” Yolande said.
“Why would she go there? Unless she thought Corin was there. Has he been found?” Jeremiah asked.
Yolande set her tea down and lowered her eyes. “Chief Torrance didn’t tell you?” she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, in clear violation of Protocol. “Magistrate, we received reports that the Prince died in a fire at his mill. I’m sorry.”
Jeremiah’s body went cold. “Collette…”
“Probably ran to the scene when she got the news,” Yolande said. “The textile building and everything in it was beyond saving.”
The door swung open and Chief Torrance bursted in. Jeremiah was still in shock, but he processed the hand on his arm. “Magistrate, sit down. You look ill.”
“You didn’t tell him his son was dead,” Yolande accused.
“I—I don’t remember hearing that,” Torrance said defensively. “But it’s not true. He’s not dead!”
“Then where is he?” Jeremiah asked, his body still frozen in standing position.
“The travelers have taken him hostage,” Torrance said.
“Not another conspiracy,” Yolande grumbled.
Jeremiah’s legs gave out and he sank to the floor. Yolande graciously put a teacup in his hands and helped him take a drink.
“It’s not a conspiracy. Ambassador Matthews has called and claimed responsibility,” Torrance said, holding up a radio. “He’s using our own broadcast frequency, so the entire city can hear. And he wants to speak with you. You should not answer, but I thought you should know.”
Jeremiah snatched the radio, his mind racing, calculating how long it would take to mobilize an army and storm the travelers’ ship. Torrance had said Collette was already mobilizing their forces. “Taking prisoners, Ambassador?”
“Just following your example, Magistrate,” Tray Matthews crooned. “I’d like to make an exchange, my people for yours.”
“You have one prisoner. I have three,” Jeremiah said.
“I don’t have to give you the one to get my three back,” Tray replied icily. “I will bring your whole city to ruin if you make me wait.”
“Is he broadcasting from within the city?” Jeremiah whispered, looking to Torrance and Yolande. Yolande motioned that she would find the Chief of Broadcasting to source the signal.
“I could have spent the morning making love to my wife and the afternoon negotiating proper trade between our domes, but you forced this conflict between us,” Tray continued. “Hand over my people.”
The ground shook and Jeremiah dropped the radio. Rubble fell from the ceiling and the staircase started to collapse. Torrance grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him from the little room, searching for an avenue of escape.
Then they heard Tray laughing over the radio. “Did you feel that, Magistrate?” he cackled.
“The Palace is falling,” he whispered. Collette’s premonition was coming true!
Jeremiah ran to the main foyer, where the princes and doctors had converged to discuss the broadcast. “Civilians, evacuate the Palace. Chief of Safety, assess the damage. Prince of Law, prepare to move the prisoners,” he ordered.
“Have I demonstrated how fervently I want my brother back?” Tray shouted, punctuating every word of his demand.
Jeremiah was ready to concede, but then the Prince of Law snatched the radio from his hands. “We will not negotiate with terrorists,” the Prince of Law retorted.
“No. Call him back. Make the deal. Save my son!” Jeremiah cried, diving for the radio.
“Magistrate, we have to move you to a safe location,” Torrance said, joining the Prince in trying to wrestle him to an exit.
“We’re safe here. He wouldn’t kill his brother,” Jeremiah said.
“He is ill with Festival poisoning. We cannot trust his rage,” the Prince of Health argued.
Jeremiah cried out. “Please, Gene! We want them gone and they want to leave! Make the deal!”
35
The dust settled over the rubble, and Saskia flashed back to Terrana. The Marble, Terrana’s prized government building, had collapsed around her again. Her body was broken, and the air was thin. Saskia felt a brace close around her neck and someone spoke to her in Nolan, their tone urgent. She coughed, trying not to move as she assessed the damage to her body. Her left leg was under a rock and three people were chanting in unison as they heaved it up, allowing the person behind her to pull her out from under it. There was no one to teleport her out of this one. Right now, her rescuers saw a victim and a uniform, but it wouldn’t be long before they questioned her identity or recognized her face.
A woman hovered over her, asking her questions. They were trying to assess her pain, but she didn’t know how to answer. Slowly, she moved her hand down to her hip, feeling for her weapon. It was still in place. She tested her right leg and didn’t have any trouble moving it. The woman put a brace on her left leg, then hefted her onto a stretcher. Saskia wanted to protest, but she didn’t dare make a sound. She touched her ear and cringed. The ringing was minimal, but maybe her helpers would think that she’d damaged her hearing in the blast. Her caretaker said something consoling, then called out an order to someone else and moved back to the field. They were searching for other victims.
Saskia had done her best to make sure the hall was empty before she collapsed it. She should have been clear of the blast and she couldn’t remember why she wasn’t. Had she run back to save someone?
Two teenagers came to her stretcher and lifted her off the ground. They loaded her into the back of a truck that smelled like sheep manure. The quiet in the back of the vehicle alleviated some of the ringing in her ears, but the stench had her gasping for air. Finding her knife, she cut the restraints on the stretcher and sat up. Her leg ached and her tibia was probably fractured, but she couldn’t steal a vehicle with a brace going from her ankle to her thigh. She tore off the neck brace first, then cut off the leg brace. Drawing her stunner, she peeked over the wooden slats into the front cabin, glad to find it empty. She rolled off the truck bed and hobbled to the front seat, reeling in pain.
This was the first vehicle she’d seen in Nola, and it looked old. The cabin was primitive and non-intuitive, and Saskia wasn’t even sure how to make it go forward. If Hawk were here, he’d have it moving in a heartbeat. Saskia had so many spots in her vision, she could barely see the path in front of her, but she had to go.
She pressed buttons until one of them made the engine start. The whole vehicle rattled, sending shooting pain through her leg. She tried to move forward, but the vehicle choked and stalled. Someone had to have noticed the noise. Frantically, she started the engine again, shifted one of the levers, and began rolling forward. There was a blue button that acted as a brake and a gray one that accelerated. Holding down the gray button, she charged forward, steering with the crescent yoke.
People leapt out of her way as she sped through the narrow streets and she made a beeline for the river. If the vehicle was designed to carry sheep, there had to be a path to the mountains or a bridge over th
e river that supported the vehicle’s weight.
“Tray?” she called, tapping her Virp. The ringing in her ears spiked and Saskia winced.
“Babe, you all right? What happened?” Tray replied.
“I don’t know. Maybe I miscalculated that blast,” she said, slowing down as the pedestrian traffic became denser. “Is everyone else back on the ship?”
“Hardly,” Tray replied. “I thought I’d killed the vring when I couldn’t reach you, but Danny called. He says the Magistrate doesn’t seem to be buying our threat.”
“Well, if I kill him, maybe the next person in line will be more reasonable,” Saskia suggested. She looked down at her uniform, but it was tattered and bloodied. There was no easy way back to the Palace, but maybe the vehicle could get her to the front door. She turned back, retracing her steps.
“Let’s call that Plan C,” Tray said.
“What’s Plan B?” she asked.
“More property damage. No killing.”
Saskia slowed her vehicle to a halt. She couldn’t let herself be captured, and driving through the city in a farm vehicle was too high profile.
“Tray, it took me two hours to scrounge up enough gunpowder from their projectiles to make the last blast. Our hostage doesn’t want to go back. We need a better plan.”
“I’m working on it. You keep up the property damage,” he said lightly.
“Babe,” she choked. Her vision was swimming and the Palace was looming.
“What’s going on, Saskia?” he asked seriously. “If there’s a problem, fall back to the ship.”
“I have a truck. I can make the engine explode. Fifteen minutes,” she replied. Having worked anti-terrorism before the Revolution on Terrana, she knew a few tricks.
“Tell me the truth, Saskia. How badly are you hurt?” he asked directly.
“Scrapes and bruises,” she lied. He swore and she cringed, the sound making her ears hurt. “Fifteen minutes. Then I’m heading back to the ship,” she said. “Time starts now.”
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 24