Alara no longer thought of Shannon as a Terran, but as a friend—a good thing because there was no estimating how long they might be stuck in this cell together. While Xander would try to rescue them, he faced almost impossible odds. To search every room in this building might take years, but she couldn’t resist Boktai that long.
“I have an idea.” Alara reached into her pocket and touched the balls of blane she’d procured from the plant vendor. Looking through the bars, she eyed the guard as he ate his meal. The Lapautee was large, devoid of expression, yet his eyes remained alert. “Can you distract him long enough for me to drop some plant fertilizer into his food?”
“Then what?” Shannon asked. “He’s going to turn green and leafy on us?”
“Green and sick will be more likely. Maybe green and dead. I can’t predict the effects the blane will have on his biology with any real certainty.”
“Okay, I divert him, then what?”
“He’ll unlock the door to check you out. I’ll drop the blane in his food.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Alara appreciated that Shannon didn’t pick apart her idea. So many things could go wrong. The guard might not fall for the diversion. She could put the blane in his drink, but he might not swallow it. Or he might drink it and feel no effects.
Shannon hadn’t asked what they would do after he got sick, and Alara couldn’t have answered—because it depended on what happened next. But any escape attempt was better than waiting in the cell for the creation prevention butcher to slice them up.
Alara sat on the floor, positioning herself against the bars but far enough from the door so he wouldn’t see her as a threat. When she’d been there a while and the guard was halfway through his meal, she nodded to Shannon.
The Terran let out an ear-piercing scream, then gagged. Clutching her throat, she moaned, gyrated, and twisted as she slumped to the floor. Shannon’s lips grimaced, and she drew her limbs to her chest. Her legs twitched, and she curved her wrists until her hands looked like claws.
The guard set his tray of food down. But it wasn’t close enough for Alara to reach. Krek.
“Do something,” Alara demanded, scooting back as if to show she wouldn’t get up if he entered the cell, but in truth, she shifted closer to the food.
He didn’t unlock the cell, but advanced one step closer. Shannon obligingly moaned and thrashed, drawing the guard’s eyes. But he didn’t unlock the door, warily keeping back.
Instead, he spoke into his wrist, but she couldn’t hear what he said over Shannon’s groans. Alara still couldn’t reach the food, but this might be her only opportunity. Taking a chance, Alara tossed blane balls into his food and drink. Then she held her breath, hoping the fertilizer didn’t turn his water to purple or green—but the drink remained clear.
But several balls had landed on his food, and they weren’t disintegrating. If he found them, he might not eat or drink.
“If you’re not going to help her, I will.” Alara shoved to her feet, hurried to Shannon, and placed her hand on her forehead. Placing her body between the guard and the Terran, Alara pretended to manipulate her neck. “There. Is that better?”
“Ah . . . yes. Thanks.”
The guard peered at her. “What did you do?”
“Her neck needed an adjustment. Don’t Lapautee’s bones ever require manipulation?”
The guard shook his head, picked up his food and began to eat. Good. But she didn’t want him paying close attention to his food while he ate.
What was the best way to capture a man’s attention? That was an easy question to answer. She frowned at him. “But surely you know the secret way to manipulate the neck and back to give your wife the greatest sexual pleasure?”
He forked food into his mouth, but his gaze stayed on her. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, everyone knows that certain body positions create the best alignment for mutual pleasure. Why, I once was with a man whose orgasm lasted for five Federation minutes.”
“That’s possible?” He guzzled water as if the topic she’d picked had made him hot.
“Of course.”
“Tell me how it’s done,” he demanded, setting down his water and his food.
Not good. He’d become so interested in her story that he’d stopped eating. Inspired, she pointed to his tray, hoping he’d do the exact opposite of what she suggested. “The first requirement is ignoring your food, going hungry.”
Shannon almost choked as she bit back a snort. Then she covered her lapse by holding up her hand. “I’m okay.”
“Are you saying if I ignore my dinner, you’ll show me?” The guard now looked as suspicious as an Endekian trader being offered water during rainy season in exchange for priceless gems.
Obviously he was wary of placing one foot inside their cell. She hardened her tone, hoping to confuse him. “You think I want you in this cell? Try to enter, and I’ll scream.”
“That’s what I thought. You’re all talk.” He turned his back on her, picked up his food, and continued to eat.
Alara pretended annoyance while she helped Shannon over to the wall nearest the guard. She remained silent, hoping the blane that had landed on top of his food was in his belly and dissolving in his digestive tract.
When he grunted oddly, she glanced over to see him stagger. He dropped the tray. The remainder of his food and drink spilled, the plate, bowl, and tankard crashing and rolling by his feet. With a thump, he hit the floor hard, landing on his back, his limbs sprawled wide. His eyes closed, and he didn’t wriggle so much as a finger.
“Is he dead?” Shannon stood to peer at him. “No—not dead. His chest’s still rising and falling.”
Alara had no idea how long he’d be zonked, or how long until someone walked by and discovered what they’d done. She didn’t hesitate to extend her hand and arm through the bars. “Krek. I can’t reach him.”
“Let me try,” Shannon insisted. Although she was a bit shorter than Alara, she was extremely thin. She shoved her shoulder through right up to her neck, extended her arm and her fingertips until she just barely touched the edge of his sleeve. “Push me.”
“You’re already wedged in so tight, it’ll take a lever to pry you—”
“Push me,” Shannon insisted in a tone that snapped like an order.
Alara placed her hands on the Terran’s shoulder and applied pressure. She feared the older woman’s bones were so fragile they might snap. But while Shannon might not have much mass, she possessed a wiry strength.
Still, Alara didn’t use all her force. “Am I hurting you?”
“Another quarter inch,” Shannon gasped.
Alara had no idea what an inch was but threw more weight into her effort. Glimpsing their progress over Shannon’s head, she saw her fingertips touch the guard’s sleeve, then clutch the material. “You’ve got him.”
Shannon groaned. Her body trembled with effort. “He’s too heavy for me to pull.”
“Hang on to him, and I’ll drag you both in.” Alara braced her feet against the bars, clamped both hands around Shannon’s upper arm, and yanked. Shannon popped out from between the bars, and the guard slid toward their cell.
“Oops.” Her strength gave out; Shannon let go.
Alara toppled hard, and Shannon flattened her, knocking the wind from her lungs. For a moment Alara’s chest froze. She couldn’t draw in air. Pain rolled through her in waves as if she’d broken ribs.
“Sorry.” Shannon scrambled off her. “You okay?”
“Ur-ek.” She sounded like a wounded animal.
Shannon moved toward the guard. “Sorry, I don’t speak Endeki and the translat—” She caught sight of Alara’s twisted lips. “Oh, God. You’re hurt.”
Shannon knelt, smoothed back her hair. “I hope I did
n’t break any bones. Don’t move.”
Alara couldn’t talk. She clutched her throat as her chest spasmed and locked up tight.
Shannon leaned over Alara, her eyes full of concern, her voice reassuring and calm. “Sweetie, I know you can’t breathe. My son used to race skim carts, and the g-force sometimes knocked the wind out of him. You feel like you’re dying—”
Alara nodded vigorously.
“But if you relax your chest muscles, you’ll be back to normal in moments.”
Alara nodded that she understood and closed her eyes. Shannon smoothed her hair back from her face in a loving gesture that reminded Alara of her mother. When she’d been a little girl and her father’s shouts had scared her, her mother would often come to her, pull her into her lap and rock her, smoothing back her hair with gentle and tender strokes.
“Sweetie, you’re going to be fine. Your plan worked. The big oaf is out like a light, and as soon as you’re able, we’re going to frisk him, find a key, and bounce.”
Alara envisioned her muscles relaxing, and finally they obeyed. She drew in air, and it had never tasted so sweet. She didn’t try to test her hurting ribs yet, simply looked into Shannon’s eyes. “Bounce?”
“Leave.”
“Oh.” Alara sat up slowly, hoping the dizziness was due to lack of air. Or her aching ribs. At least she didn’t think any had broken.
But Shannon gasped. “Your head.”
Alara gingerly placed a hand to her former injury, and when it came away bloody she realized she’d reopened the wound. “I don’t think it’s—”
“Use your suit to apply pressure,” Shannon instructed. “It’ll stop the bleeding.”
Alara had never before employed her suit in quite that way. But it made sense. Using her psi, she applied force, and the suit acted as a pressure bandage. Unfortunately, it couldn’t also stop the throbbing ache. “I’m better now. Get the key.”
Shannon stretched through the bars again and frisked the guard. She found holovids of a woman, more pellets which she appropriated, and a key to the cell which she held up in triumph. “You did it.”
“We did it.” Alara could never have reached the guard through the bars if Shannon hadn’t been there. Between the exhilaration of success and the adrenaline flooding her system, her breasts began to tingle, signaling the early stirrings of Boktai. Her sexual need for regeneration would keep cycling repeatedly for this entire year.
By the four rings of Darica—why now?
Alara didn’t need the distraction of her body signaling that it needed regeneration. Sex was the last thing she wanted to deal with now. But Boktai was never convenient, and she prayed they truly could escape. The alternative was simply unthinkable. If they were caught . . . and her body needed . . .
Breathe.
She could buy some time by staying calm.
Shannon inserted the key into the lock, and an electronic buzzer hummed. The cell door opened, and it took all of Alara’s presence of mind not to sprint down the corridor. “Let’s lock him in the cell.”
“Good idea.” Shannon took one arm, and she took the other. Unwilling to touch male flesh, Alara grabbed him by the sleeve and refused to look at him, knowing the sight of a male would advance her biological state. With her weakened psi, her suit’s filters weren’t working well, and her nostrils drew in his male scent.
In tandem, they dragged the unconscious guard into the cell. The effort cost Shannon. Her lips turned almost white, but she didn’t complain, so Alara didn’t mention her bruised ribs.
Alara wished they’d had cuffs and a gag, but they had no material to work with. In truth, she didn’t like the excitement thrumming through her and realized the danger might be speeding up Boktai.
They locked the cell door behind them. Shannon glanced at the key as if she were considering leaving it. Alara spoke quietly, ignoring the male and her physical reaction to him. “Keep it. Maybe it’ll unlock more than this cell door.”
“Good thinking.”
Shannon slipped the key into her suit. “Where do we go now?”
“To the nearest exit.”
Shannon frowned. “I don’t think I saw any—not even one—after we entered the complex.”
“Can you cry on demand?” Alara asked.
“Sure.” Shannon gave her a strange look. “Why?”
“So here’s the plan. We walk slowly. We keep our hands over our wombs as if they’ve already taken our ova. If anyone stops us, we cry storm-sized tears. Keep your head down, shoulders hunched, take shuffling steps, and hopefully no one will even question us.”
“Nice. You have a good head for tactics and remind me of my third granddaughter.” Shannon smiled fondly, and Alara could tell from the softening in her eyes she loved her family. “That one could plan a military campaign if she wasn’t so busy raising her brood.”
They walked through corridor after corridor, past what seemed like hundreds of rooms. They passed many groups of women, and when one traveled in the direction they were going, they attached themselves to them, believing there was safety in blending in. Shannon, bless her courageous heart, didn’t once ask for a rest. Instead, her lips tightened, and her breath turned raspy with the effort of remaining so long on her feet.
Luckily, the guards didn’t question them. Alara tried to hold her breath every time they passed. She didn’t look at their male forms, either. But just knowing they were close by sent signals to her brain that released hormones.
Ignore them.
Ignore the need.
She gritted her teeth, reminded herself that in the past she’d resisted Boktai for a day, even two. But she’d had her work to distract her. No males in her laboratory. Adrenaline hadn’t been a catalyst.
They’d walked for a long time, women joining them as others departed, and she’d seen no sign of an exit. While the building didn’t seem to have a day or night, Shannon simply wasn’t able to keep up with Alara’s overcharged body. Alara had to slow her pace, then slow it again.
However badly she needed to escape and seek regeneration, the exhaustion of their capture, her rumbling stomach, and her parched throat, never mind her aching ribs and head, had Alara searching for a place to rest. Shannon couldn’t keep wandering the corridors without sleep, and they both needed food and drink, so when she spied two food trays on a cart, Alara swiped the cart.
Although Shannon had yet to complain, at the sight of food, she perked up, picking up the pace slightly. She also plucked the key from her pocket and tried several doors. The first three didn’t open, but the third one buzzed and led into a supply room.
The two women slipped inside and shared the stolen food. The Lapautee nourishment had an odd but not unpleasant taste. Between bites of meat and vegetables and sips of drink, Alara considered their options. While she could have kept going, Shannon required rest, and no way was she leaving the Terran behind. “We need sleep.”
“Should we take turns?”
Alara shrugged. “The night janitor is the likeliest person to find us. If he does open the door, we’ll just say we’re lost.”
“Too bad it’s the truth.” Indicating her true exhaustion, Shannon didn’t argue over whether anyone would believe the flimsy argument that they could get lost in a closet. She floated by the ceiling with her null grav and flipped off the light.
“We aren’t lost,” Alara said quietly, hoping she could sleep as the need for regeneration coursed through her.
“We aren’t?”
“We’re in Arc Six on Lapau,” Alara teased her, pleased with the give-and-take and her developing friendship with the Terran.
“Oh, Arc Six. Right. I feel so much better now,” Shannon mumbled. “Even Xander can’t find us in here. He must be frantic with worry by now, but he won’t show it—reminds me of Todd.”
“Todd?”
“My fourth son.”
“How many kids do you have?”
“Ten biological children, and then there’s the three I adopted.”
“Ten wasn’t enough?” Alara asked. She’d never known anyone who’d had that many children. But then Endeki men didn’t like their wives so busy with the kids that they couldn’t take care of their needs.
Shannon was a feisty old lady. She’d left her family behind to explore the stars. In many ways, Alara admired her spirit.
“If I could have afforded more children, I would have had twenty. Children are God’s blessing, especially after they move out and have kids of their own. Grandchildren are God’s miracles—you get to enjoy them and then hand them back for the hard stuff.”
“So why did you leave them?”
“A girl’s got to live. The truth is that the kids don’t need me anymore. Neither do the grandkids, and I have so many great-grandkids, I can’t even recall all their names.” Shannon’s voice turned husky. “They keep in touch. One of the great-grandkids wrote a paper about me for a class in school. She called me a legend. I told her legends were for dead people, and I still have a lot of living to do.”
Alara prayed that statement was true. Because even as Shannon made the claim, her voice weakened.
Alara also could hear the pride in her tone, despite her denial of legendary status. Earth must be very different from Endeki. If an Endekian woman had lived Shannon’s adventurous life, her relatives would revile her for leaving her family. But then Terran women had a freedom from Boktai that allowed them to accomplish more than her people could.
As need poured through Alara, she mourned the loss of her work. By now, her untended DNA samples would be dead, the mutations she’d wanted to study would have died and decomposed. Starting over might be impossible.
The Ultimatum Page 18