He gave a choked laugh, turned his head and kissed the side of her temple. “I'll live.”
They stood together, each supporting the other, so they were leaning against each other when they finally straightened up.
“It wouldn't exactly have been difficult to run the two of you down,” Baxter said.
Hana ignored him and rested her head for a moment on Iver's shoulder.
She really had never felt this bad.
“What have we here?” The man who stepped around the hut was the stranger amongst the group of smugglers, the man Hana suspected was working for whoever was trying to steal the engine from Bret.
“Who the hell are you?” Baxter demanded, moving his SAL from Hana and Iver to the new threat.
The stranger aimed and they both shot each other at the same time, although only Baxter went down.
The man looked down at Bret's crumpled form, and plucked the SAL dart out of his shirt.
“Body armor.” Iver sounded approving.
The man looked at him, a slow perusal. “You're Iver Sugotti.”
Iver shrugged.
The man narrowed his eyes. “I think you need to come with me.”
Chapter 23
Hana was not well.
Iver was worried about the gray cast to her skin, and the perspiration that beaded on her forehead and at her hairline.
That he knew the reason for it didn't seem to help.
He probably didn't look that well himself, he acknowledged. His ribs were better since Hana had seen to them, but he could still feel the throb of the bruises on his face and side.
Hana affected an exaggerated limp as they were herded toward the others, and he decided it wouldn't hurt for him to make himself look more injured than he was, as well.
Bret and his people stood together in a tight knot, surrounded by the smugglers. Craven's people had taken their SALs, and he noticed they looked a little surprised at their own success.
“Did you know they had Iver Sugotti prisoner here?” The man who'd shot Baxter was looking at Craven as he herded them toward the group.
“What?” Craven turned to stare at Iver. “So it is.” He looked over at Bret's group. “How?”
No one answered, and Craven grabbed the nearest person, who turned out to be Jeera, and shoved his SAL against her throat.
“He came with her, we think,” Jeera said, after a moment's hesitation. She flicked a hand at Hana.
“With--?” Brynja took a step to the side to look him over. “He was the second person we were chasing? The one you were supposed to track down?” She directed the last sentence to Barre.
“As he was busy stealing supplies from the back of my lander instead, that would have been hard for him to do.” Fraen, the lander's driver, didn't hide his scorn.
Barre snarled at him, raised his SAL, and Craven clamped a hand on his forearm. “What's this?”
Barre turned his head to look at Craven, and tried a nonchalant shrug. “Lies.”
“Truth,” Bret said. “Not that we were complaining. Our getting hold of Sugotti ourselves because you were too busy stealing was worth the equipment you took.”
“Much good it's done you now.” Barre bared his teeth at the camp leader.
Bret's lips twisted in a wry smile. “Obviously, things could be going better for us.”
“Quiet.” Craven's hand slashed through the air. He looked long and hard at Barre before finally turning back to Iver.
Iver took the opportunity to give the smuggler as thorough a perusal as Craven was giving him.
He looked to be about 50 standard Arkhoran years, and like the rest of his group, was more than a little wild. His clothing was dirty and ripped in places, and he obviously hadn't bathed in a while.
Iver glanced down at himself and acknowledged he probably didn't look much better.
“What are you doing here, Sugotti?”
“Well, they tried to kill me,” Iver tipped his head toward the camp crew, “and I decided to come out here and find out why.”
“Tried to kill you?” Brynja's eyes widened.
“Ask your friend here,” Iver said, taking an educated guess as he looked over at the hard-eyed stranger who'd forced them back to camp. “He'll know all about it. My guess is Lancaster was feeding him information about what was happening here at camp before he was killed.”
The stranger took a step back, hands raised, as every eye focused on him.
“Lancaster was involved with this lot?” Bret asked, waving at the smugglers.
“I don't think so. I'm guessing he was talking to whoever this guy represents.” Iver nodded to the stranger. “Shortly after Lancaster made the error of admitting to whoever he was dealing with that he hadn't killed me as originally planned, he was killed himself, and my guess is they thought I was dead along with him.” Iver smiled. “That seems to happen to me a lot.”
“But why did they try to kill you?” Brynja persisted.
“Because he was about to build his sky lane right through this camp,” Bret said.
“Shit.” Brynja turned and looked up and then down the valley. “They'd have tripped over you.”
“Obviously everyone's plans have been disrupted,” the stranger said. “But let's get down to it. Where is the engine?”
Bret gave a laugh. “Didn't Lancaster tell you about that?”
“Tell me what?”
“That we're still looking for it.”
There was silence as the stranger stared at him, a growing silence that had even Craven twitching a little. “He said you had it.” The words were so quiet, it was hard to hear them.
“He told me he was loyal and wouldn't let me down. Neither of us got the truth out of him.” Bret lifted his hands.
The stranger narrowed his eyes at the whole group, looking from one to the other. “I don't believe you.”
“Why do you think the shield is still up if they've found and removed the engine?” Hana asked.
Everyone's heads snapped in her direction, as if they only just remembered she was there.
“Maybe they've found it but haven't yet removed it.”
“Maybe.” Hana's lips quirked in a smile. “But then what are they still doing here? The lander that was intercepted yesterday was full of supplies, as your little thief there knows full well. Why were they stocking up if they were done?”
“What's it to you one way or the other?” Craven asked.
“Nothing. Except I'm stuck in the middle of this. I want to get back to Touka City, get some actual help for my foot, and Iver needs to let the VSC battalion know he's still alive, before Admiral Valerian shows up in force to look for the head-of-planet.”
“They don't know you're alive?” the stranger asked, skeptical.
“I was a little busy running for my life to check in with the fleet.” Iver shrugged. “I'm sure the head administrator of Touka City contacted them after my Sig was shot down.”
“And what's your stake in this?” Bret turned to Craven. “You working for him?” He pointed at the stranger.
“Working with him,” Craven corrected smoothly. “We've got a mutually beneficial deal.”
“And who is he?” Iver asked.
“You're asking the questions now, are you?” The stranger moved his SAL just a little higher in implied threat.
“He a Caruson liaison?” Grimms asked, absolute disdain in every word.
“What? No!” Craven shook his head. “I'm not dumb enough to get into bed with that lot. They've got no allegiance to anyone who isn't from Caruso.”
“So who, then?” Bret asked.
“Not a word.” The stranger moved slightly, so the SAL was pointing in Craven's direction.
“Silence was part of the agreement. I keep my word.” Craven looked unhappily at the SAL.
“See that you do.” The stranger did a slow sweep of the camp. “Put half the group in one hut, the other half in another, and lock them in.”
No one commented on that,
something that Iver found interesting. Either they didn't realize the locks didn't work, or they didn't care to let their employer know it couldn't be done.
“Except you. I want to talk to you.” The stranger turned to Iver, his gaze passing over Hana as if debating whether she was worth questioning as well.
There were risks to her both ways, and Iver couldn't work out which would be worse. He kept his body relaxed, his face neutral.
“You, too,” he said at last, pointing his SAL at Hana. “I don't like mysteries.”
The couch drew her.
Hana limped toward it, aware of Craven's consternation as she angled away from him and flopped down, stretching out and closing her eyes.
She concentrated on breathing away the nausea, happy to be lying down in comfort.
Craven hovered over her, and she fought back a smile.
She had really needed to lie down, but putting their captors off balance was a nice bonus.
“Now you have us in private, would you care to introduce yourself?” Iver's voice was smooth and implacable.
“You can call me Jake.” She heard the amusement in the stranger's voice, as if he thought the idea of an introduction was quaint.
She doubted it was his real name.
She heard Jake set down the black case he'd carried over to the admin building with him and then the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as Iver and Jake took a seat.
“What's wrong with her?” Jake asked.
“She's got an infection in her foot from a metal trap Craven set in the valley.” Iver kept his tone neutral.
“A metal--?”
“A device my people put out to catch some game.” Craven's clothing rustled as he stepped behind the couch, toward the table. “You know, because your lot reneged on sending us the supplies you promised.”
Nothing was said for a long moment.
“You know why we couldn't.” Jake's voice was quiet.
“Sure.” Craven sounded skeptical, but he didn't say anything else.
“So, she's injured.” Jake seemed to want to move on. “And so are you, by the way you're moving.”
“Bret likes to kick people when they're down.” Hana could almost see Iver's shrug. “I want someone to check Hana out in the medbay.”
Jake laughed. “That's not going to happen. You complicate things for me, Sugotti. When Bret's people were going to kill you to stop the sky lane and make it look like an accident, that was one thing. When they screwed it up, that created a whole new set of circumstances. We don't have the luxury of time now, we have to get hold of the shield engine and get out, because the VSC will be scrutinizing every runner leaving the planet.”
“I'd say that's a certainty.” She heard Iver shift in his chair. “When you blew up Lancaster's runner, Admiral Valerian would have sat up and taken notice. A Special Forces team was on the way two days ago, and if it isn't already on-planet, it will be soon.”
“You blew something up?” Craven's words rose, thin and high.
Jake said nothing, and Hana finally couldn't resist opening her eyes. Craven's agitation was clear in the movement of his body.
“You said this would be quiet. Stealthy.” Craven's back was to her, and he threw out a hand, fist clenched. “Most of us were taken prisoner in the war. None of us want to go back to that.”
“You knew this wasn't legal.” Jake's voice was dismissive. “If you were concerned about repercussions, you shouldn't have gotten involved.”
Craven turned away, his face set. He caught Hana's gaze, and his mouth contorted with fury. “And who the fuck are you, anyway? I still haven't gotten an answer on that.”
“Lashing out at someone else isn't going to change reality.” Iver poured contempt into his voice. “Especially someone you harmed.”
Craven swung back to Iver, just as he must have intended. “Fuck you, Sugotti. You were the one who imprisoned me and my crew during the war. I'm onboard with killing you here and now.”
“Good thing it's not up to you, then.” Jake's chair scraped as he stood. “We can use him as a hostage if things get sticky. If you were thinking clearly, you'd realize that.”
“And her?” Craven waved a hand back to her. “She's nobody, as far as I can tell.”
“She's somebody to him.” Jake stared at her from his place by the table, his expression thoughtful. “They were helping each other over the wall when I caught them, and I got the impression they're close. Could be that Sugotti will be more cooperative if he wants his friend to stay safe.”
“Fine.” Craven turned again, glared at her. “I'm going to see if my people need anything.”
He stalked out.
“Volatile,” Iver commented.
“Needs must.” Jake shrugged. “Not much choice when it comes to boots on the ground out here.”
The lights flickered overhead, went out, and then flickered back on.
Jake was still standing, and from her position on the couch, Hana saw him glance up at the ceiling, a frown on his face.
“They must be chewing power on something,” Iver commented. “Or there's something wrong with their array.”
“What are you talking about?” Jake's gaze snapped to Iver.
“Seems they have to cable power in over the wall. They can't generate it inside the camp.” Iver waved in the direction of the array. “Can't receive any comms either.”
“The shield blocks comms signals?” Jake frowned.
Iver shrugged. “I only stumbled in here yesterday. But it seems so.”
Jake lifted up the black case and swung it onto his shoulder, then stalked out. He shouted for someone to come guard the door, and then disappeared.
For the first time since he'd captured them, they were alone. Private.
“You all right?” Iver was suddenly sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand on her shoulder.
She struggled to sit up. “Yes--” Before she could say anything else, Brynja appeared in the doorway.
She stared at them for a moment, then moved inside a little way, and leaned against the doorjamb, a SAL in her hand. “Your foot causing problems?” She tilted her head.
“What do you think?” Iver asked, eyes narrowed.
“All you civilized lot from Touka seem to be really outraged by that trap.” Brynja shook her head. “We grew up in the Havens, mostly old runners that our parents landed on Faldine and then couldn't launch again. Traps like that kept us fed until the VSC finally caught up with us.”
“And then what kept you fed?” Hana asked.
Brynja shot Hana a look. “I'm supposed to be grateful to be made a beggar?”
“No. You never were a beggar.” Hana hooked an arm under her head and turned to watch Brynja's foot jiggle in agitation. “You're a citizen of the VSC, and entitled to a citizen dividend. And you weren't responsible for what your parents did to the Halatians.”
“You say that, but a lot of others thought different.”
Hana curled onto her side, making more room for Iver on the couch. “What are you trying to achieve now?”
“A new place, that the VSC won't try to take.”
“A new place?” Iver asked. “Another planet's DND order broken? Like here? Like on Veltos? How are you even going to get off of Faldine? In what?”
“Jake's people have a runner, they'll take us. They need people like us.”
“People like you?” Iver asked.
“Survivors.” Brynja's lips formed a tight line and she turned her head to look out the door.
“And who are Jake's people?” Iver asked.
Brynja shook her head, a sharp, angry movement. “I'm not telling you.”
“Fine.” Iver leaned back, at ease. “But Jake's gone off over the wall to contact his friends with his comms unit, hasn't he?”
The power flickered again, and Brynja glanced up at the ceiling, then at Iver.
“So what if he has?”
“No reason.” Iver leaned back further on the couch and reste
d a hand on Hana's shoulder.
She shared a look with him.
Jake had been rattled to learn the shield blocked comms. She'd thought he glanced down at the case more than was normal while he'd been seated at the table.
“He was waiting for a message,” she whispered to Iver. “He didn't look happy to discover he can't receive anything in the camp.”
Iver gave a slight smile. “Not happy, at all.”
Chapter 24
Who was Jake communicating with?
Iver shifted a little at the outside table where they had been taken to eat some lunch, trying to see where he'd gone.
He wasn't in the camp, unless he was behind the buildings, near the entrance, but given that Craven kept glancing out toward the river, Iver guessed he'd gone that way.
It was obviously bothering the smuggler that his collaborator was keeping himself out of sight and out of earshot.
Hana sat beside him, and worry spiked in his chest just looking at her.
There were dark circles under her eyes and she was listless.
She folded her arms in front of her and rested her head on them, after having barely touched her food.
“We're going to have to do something about her.”
Iver looked up, found Lia watching him. She had a big bruise on her right cheek where she'd fallen the day before after Bret had shot her in the back, and her posture was as stiff as his own.
When he said nothing, she moved closer, blocking the sun so he could look straight up at her. “She needs the medbay.”
Iver nodded. He thought so, too, but Hana kept insisting that she was fine. “Jake says she'll have to tough it out.”
Lia huffed out a breath. “I know you carried me yesterday after that bastard shot me. Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
She was the youngest of the group, and she thought she owed him. She would maybe help them, if the right opportunity arose, but Brynja had swung her attention in their direction as soon as they'd started talking, and Tillis started moving, circling the table and chairs set out on the grass like a predator circling its prey.
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