Polaris Rising

by Jessie Mihalik

  I tried to mentally place where this cell would be in the ship. I couldn’t hear or feel the engines, so we had to be toward the front. The fact that this cell was nicer than most meant it was designed to hold high-value hostages and political prisoners.

  My mental map was fuzzy, but I thought I was on the second deck in the front quarter of the ship. If House Rockhurst would do us all the favor of using the same ship designs for hundreds or thousands of years like House Yamado, it would be much easier to memorize their ship layouts.

  The crew quarters would be on decks two through four in the front quarter of the ship, while the two battalions of shock troopers and their air support personnel would be quartered on the same decks in the rear half. All of the common areas—galley, mess hall, medbay—would be on the bottom midship decks to better serve both crew and troops. The middle midship decks would house the hangars and landing bays.

  The landing bays were precisely where I needed to be, if I could just get out of this damned cell.

  Richard had not been obviously armed when he visited. He didn’t carry a blaster or knife I could steal and use against him. And in a straight battle of strength, he would trounce me, even with surprise on my side. The soldier who brought my food was similarly unarmed. I suppose they weren’t risking me taking a hostage. It was smart—and annoying.

  I turned escape possibilities over and over until the door clicked. A half a beat later, it slid open to reveal a new soldier carrying a food tray. The door closed silently behind him, giving me no chance for escape. And not only was each soldier unarmed, but they were sending a different person every time, so I wouldn’t be able to build a rapport with any of them.

  He set the tray on the table and turned to leave. The door clicked again then slid open. It stayed open for three seconds, then closed behind him. I caught a glimpse of at least one other person in the hall and he or she was armed.

  So I had half a second’s worth of notice in order to rush the door, push out the soldier who was either entering or leaving, disarm the other soldier, and disappear into the maintenance tunnels. It was technically possible. It just wasn’t very probable.

  But if that remained my only option in a few days, I’d likely be crazy enough to try it.

  Lunch consisted of a roast beef sandwich, a steaming cup of French onion soup, and a glass of iced tea. All of the dishes and the tray itself were made out of either flimsy plastech or sturdy paper. I would not be turning any of it into a shiv.

  I pushed the tray away but stayed seated at the table. I wanted to see if the soldier would return while I remained within reach. I sat statue-still while I waited. It was a skill my deportment tutor had despaired of me ever learning, but eventually I’d fallen in line. And I had to agree, it was a useful skill—it never failed to unnerve the other people in the room.

  It was also the perfect way to disguise plotting. Or thinking.

  My mind drifted to Loch. I missed him. He and Rhys were hopefully already negotiating with Father. I might never see him again. My heart twisted and realization struck—I cared for him, but I had let fear rule me.

  The admission hurt because it revealed flaws I preferred not to think about. My first relationship had scarred me deeply, but I was no longer the girl I had been. While I still wanted love and affection, I was experienced enough to spot manipulation; I just had to trust in myself.

  And everything in me said Loch hadn’t been interested because of my name.

  If I escaped, when I escaped, I would find him. We might not work out, but it wasn’t going to be because I was a coward.

  The door clicked then slid open, interrupting my thoughts. I kept my expression serene as the guard in the hall stepped into the doorway, a blaster held loosely at her side. The other guard retrieved the tray then backed out of the room. I raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t move.

  So they would retrieve the tray with me close, but only with backup. Armed backup. There might be a way to turn it into an advantage if I looked hard enough.

  I glanced around my cell. The worst part of being a political prisoner was the crashing boredom. It was part of the process, of course. Because when Richard finally offered me entertainment, I would be grateful. A few more tiny interactions along those lines and I would think that perhaps he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. The pull was so strong that even awareness, training, and vigilance weren’t always enough to overcome it.

  But being a political prisoner still beat the hell out of being in the general cells. I wouldn’t be eating waffles and iced tea down there. I’d be lucky to be eating at all.

  I sighed internally, careful to keep my outward appearance calm. They would be waiting for signs of weakness. They would have to keep waiting.

  With nothing better to do, I lay down on the cot. I wasn’t sleepy, but it was more comfortable than the honeycomb chairs. It was also easier to feign sleep while continuing to think.

  Richard did not return for the rest of the day. I told time based on the meals they brought but I had no way to know if the timing was correct. They could be bringing me food every two hours for all I knew.

  I slept surprisingly well. The cot wasn’t the most comfortable bed I’d ever had, but it was far from the worst. Overall, I was bored and frustrated by my lack of a solid escape plan, but well-rested and healthy.

  I was sitting at the table when Richard arrived with breakfast.

  “Good morning, Ada,” he said, “I trust you are well this morning.” He set the tray with two plates of food on the table. He also had a tablet tucked under his arm. He slid it under the tray.

  “Good morning, Richard,” I said. I summoned a smile. “I am well, thank you for asking. Yourself?”

  “I am quite well,” he said. “I decided to dine with you this morning. I hope you do not mind.”

  “It is your ship,” I said drily.

  His grin was sly. He had something up his sleeve. But all he said was, “So it is. Let’s eat.”

  The breakfast soufflé was excellent. He had either a high-end food synthesizer or a fabulous personal chef. The fruit salad was equally delicious. My life might be misery if I married him, but at least the food would be good.

  When we were finished, he waved a hand and the door opened. Yet another new soldier removed our dishes. With a complement of close to a thousand—not including the three-thousand-strong fighting force—he could send in a new person every meal for almost a year.

  “I’ve brought your proof of life,” he said. “Consider it an early wedding present.” He picked up the tablet and tapped on it. He turned it around so I could see the screen, but pulled back when I reached for it. “As much as I’d like to be bashed in the head with this, I think I’ll hold on to it instead, if you don’t mind,” he said with a glimmer of humor.

  I grinned at him, my first true expression since I’d been captured. “If you insist,” I said. I focused on the screen. Sure enough, Polaris sat in the landing bay. The cargo ramp opened. Rhys and Veronica were marched out at gunpoint by a squad of soldiers, cuffed and hobbled.

  Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  I waited, but no one else appeared out of the ship. The video jumped location and Rhys and Veronica were shown moving around in separate cells. I kept my expression perfectly flat, even as hope warred with rage. There was no sign of Loch, Imma, or Lin. If I had to guess, I’d guess this was a screwed-up rescue attempt, never mind the fact that I had very specifically asked Rhys to deliver Polaris to Father.

  As soon as I was out of this cell, I would find Rhys and Veronica and wring their necks.

  “Where did you catch them?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

  “We found them waiting at the gate,” Richard said. “We caught them before they got a jump endpoint.”

  This sector was nearly deserted. The gate was probably ancient, but even so, it wouldn’t take more than half an hour to get through the queue and get a jump point. With the alcubium left in the first cylinder, they could
’ve jumped straight to the gate. Swap the cylinders, which I’d shown them how to do, and they would be on their way again in an hour.

  Unless Richard caught them waiting at the gate on purpose, after they’d already jumped out, dropped off the others, and jumped back.

  “Oh, did they run out of alcubium?” I asked, subtly fishing. “I know we were getting close. I burned through a lot before I realized how the drive worked. That is why I wanted to explore XAD Six.”

  “They had half a cylinder left,” Richard said. “But they seemed to be having trouble plotting a course. I’m surprised you left two inexperienced pilots in charge of your ship. What happened to Loch?” Now he was the one fishing.

  I shrugged as if he hadn’t given me a key piece of information. “Loch disappeared on APD Zero, so leaving the ship with those two was the only option. Neither was equipped to infiltrate the facility. At least on the ship they had a chance of success.”

  And it had worked. If they only had half a cylinder, then they’d made multiple jumps before Richard caught them, which would explain the missing people. They’d gotten Loch, Lin, and Imma to safety.

  Loch’s abandonment stung. But I’d told them to run. I should not be upset that he’d followed my advice. I just wish we’d parted on better terms, because I had no doubt that I’d never see Marcus Loch again.

  “We will be married tomorrow,” Richard said with a triumphant smile. “That will give a synthesizer time to prepare your dress. The purser is a licensed minister. After our marriage, I will give your friends a shuttle and enough supplies to get them to populated space.”

  “I will have that in writing in our marriage contract,” I said. “In fact, bring me the entire contract today, and I will review and amend it as necessary.”

  This time, his smile was full of teeth. “Do not press me, Ada.”

  “If you think I will marry you with only your word protecting my friends, you are incorrect. Their safety will be a cornerstone of our contract. In fact, I suggest you send an escort with them, because if anything were to happen to them en route, it would nullify the only contract I will sign.”

  I didn’t know what Rhys and Veronica were thinking, but they’d put me in a damned difficult position. I’d planned for the long game, to wait until someone made a mistake, gave me an opportunity, and then I would strike. Now I had to escape by tomorrow or marry Richard. And Houses did not take divorce lightly—or at all. The only way out of a House marriage was a breach of the marriage contract or death.

  Shit.

  Richard stood. He didn’t even try to hide his smug smile. He had me and he knew it. All I could do was make the best of it. I needed to comb through the marriage contract line by line because I had no doubt he’d try to sneak in whatever he could. I planned to do the same.

  “Until tomorrow, Lady Ada,” he said with a mocking bow. “I will have someone deliver the marriage contract later today. Take care with your changes—your friends’ lives depend on it.”

  He left, taking the tablet with him. I stared straight ahead, careful not to let my shoulders slump or my head bow. I could only imagine the monstrosity of a contract he would try to force me to sign. I would have to pick my battles wisely.

  And then, tonight, I would have to escape.

  Chapter 22

  The contract came after lunch on a tablet meant for children. With a thick rubber case and no networking components, it was useless both as a weapon and as a communication device. I wondered where Richard had gotten it.

  The contract was as bad as I feared. Signing it would be far worse than any marriage Father would’ve arranged for me. The irony was not lost on me. Fate was a capricious bitch and it was my turn to be hit.

  I read through the entire contract then started again at the beginning, highlighting passages in various colors: red for egregious, yellow for bad, blue for livable but not great, and green for favorable.

  Green did not get used.

  The document was half-red by the time I’d made the first highlighting pass. The rest was yellow with just a smattering of blue. Beneath my calm outer shell I shook with rage and suppressed tears.

  The second pass split the red into various shades—the darker the hue, the worse the passage was for me. At least a quarter of the contract remained dark red, even though I thought I’d been generous in my use of lighter shades.

  If I signed this contract, Richard would own me entirely for the next five years. After that probationary period, I might be allowed limited freedom of movement and communication as long as I was always accompanied by a companion of Richard’s choice. If I breached the contract, Rhys’s and Veronica’s lives were forfeit.

  In addition, I would be forced to feed my family false information about House Rockhurst, information that would likely cost lives during the war that was sure to come. Using incorrect encryption codes or otherwise tipping them off would be considered breach of contract. So now I was balancing my life, the lives of my family, and the lives of those loyal to House von Hasenberg against the lives of my friends.

  It was an impossible situation.

  If I signed the contract, my only out would be to escape or kill Richard, warn my friends to go into hiding, and then go into hiding myself. My family would not take me back or protect me. I would truly be on my own for the rest of my life.

  It would still be better than the life Richard had planned for me.

  I saved a clean copy of the contract then began my revisions. The foundation of my changes would be saving as many people as possible. Not only did I want Rhys and Veronica to escape alive, but I wanted them to stay alive and out of Richard’s hands. If they died early or were imprisoned in any way, it would breach the contract.

  Line by line I subtly massaged the contract language. It was tedious, painstaking work. I didn’t notice the time passing until the door clicked then slid open. It must have been dinnertime already and I hadn’t even made it through half of the contract.

  I also hadn’t come up with a better escape plan than rush the guard and hope for the best.

  A guard carrying a tray stepped through the door. I would rush him on the way out. A second guard did not step into the room, even though I was sitting at the table, and the door slid closed before I thought to look outside. The guard set the tray on the table and backed up. I tensed.

  The door clicked.

  I launched myself at the soldier and threw the tablet at his head. The throw didn’t have any force behind it, but it brought his arms up to protect his face, and because he’d been backing away, he was off-balance. He didn’t have time to fix his stance. I put my shoulder down and plowed him through the open door and into the wall across the hall.

  I spun for the armed soldier but instead found a blaster in my face.

  “Move, darlin’,” a familiar voice drawled.

  I looked past the blaster. Loch was dressed in the same uniform the soldier behind me wore. When I remained frozen in shock, he pushed me aside and shot the soldier point-blank.

  “I’m happy to see you, too,” he said drily.

  I opened my mouth but the words were stuck. I finally got out, “What?”

  “I’ll explain later. Rhys and Veronica are already on their way. Best case scenario, we have about twenty minutes until the next shift takes over and notices something wrong. We have to move.” He picked up the soldier he’d shot, along with another I hadn’t noticed, shoved them into my cell, then closed the door. He handed me a blaster. “You good?”

  I shook myself out of my daze and focused on the important part—escape. “I’m good. You know where we’re going?”

  He nodded and started off.

  “Wait,” I said. “Do you have a com? I’m probably tagged and geofenced. If I leave, it’ll set off alarms. And I’d rather not have to strip naked.” He grinned but pulled out a com and scanned me for trackers. I only had one, in my back pocket. I took it out and dropped it near the door. “Thanks,” I said. “Now I’m ready.”

/>   He led me down the hall to an alcove with ladder access to the maintenance tunnels. On a ship this large they would be seemingly infinite. They were also less likely to be empty than on the Mayport because ship maintenance was a never-ending job.

  Loch slid the access panel closed behind us. The tunnel was sparsely lit, narrow, and short enough we couldn’t stand up straight. But at least we didn’t have to crawl. “If we make good time, it’s eight minutes to the landing bay where Polaris is. You okay to run?” He looked me up and down, as if he could see any injuries through my clothes. His gaze snagged on my feet. “You’re not wearing boots.”

  The steel grating of the tunnel floor dug into the soles of my feet, but it was a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. “I don’t know what happened to my boots; I woke up without them. But I’m good to run,” I said. “I want off this pile of scrap.”

  Loch took me at my word. He nodded then started off in a ground-eating jog. After sitting idle in the same six square meters for the last two days, it felt nice to move.

  We twisted and turned through the tunnels, sometimes going up or down a level. Loch never hesitated and never slowed down. My feet ached from the abrasion against the grated floor, but they hadn’t started to bleed yet so I kept my mouth shut and my body moving.

  Loch stopped at the next corner and turned back to me. “We’re almost there,” he breathed into my ear. “The next part is tricky because it passes a maintenance crew supply room they’ve converted into a break room. There’s no other way unless we want to take twenty minutes to go around. Stick to me. If things go sideways, shoot to kill.”

  I nodded. The blaster felt heavy in my hands. I hadn’t properly mourned for the last people I’d killed and now I was likely going to add to my total.

  We rounded the corner into a fully illuminated tunnel. As we approached the door in the middle, I could hear conversation—at least three people. Loch moved silently. I shadowed him. When we reached the door, he held up a hand and crouched down to peek into the room.