She waved at the pile of wires. “I will hold you to that.”
He nodded and returned his attention to working on the computer system strewn around him. She wanted to pace but knew that would just add pressure, not just to him but to her as well, so she sat and watched.
She didn’t know the time or when their guards would be by to deliver food, but there was a sense of urgency that burned inside her. Now that escape was within reach she couldn’t quell her impatience. How long she sat like that, she didn’t know, but when the door suddenly slid open she felt her heart plummet into dust, sure they had caught on to Logan’s plan.
But no warning sound rang out, no alarm bells. Logan jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand and before she could blink, they were in the hallway. He banged on the walls, alerting the occupants inside the other cells that they were free if they wished. A few people poked their heads out, a few she recognized. Disbelief clouded their faces, but soon the emotion gave way to elation, to fervor, and a cry rose up as they raced from the cells.
Logan grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction. The entire time they hurried, her heart thumped heavily in her chest. Every shadow, every noise had her flinching because she expected them to be caught at any moment. But each step they took carried them closer to freedom, closer to escaping the horrible fate that awaited them as captives of the Merloni and Unarians.
Alarms finally blared to life, shrilly shrieking as the lights changed to red. Logan cursed again but kept running, his hand a band of steel around her wrist. Several times they had to take cover in a cove, hiding as Kexians rushed by, their garbled talk raised in anger.
Finally, after what seemed like the longest few minutes of her life, Logan pulled her into a corridor where door after door stood in a long line. He played with the controls of one and she watched him, waiting on tenterhooks, her fingers wringing together nervously.
“This door is easier,” he announced and a second later it slid open.
He pushed her inside and then hurried after. She realized that they were actually in an escape pod, that they had made it! But her relief was short-lived as she realized they were going to have to now get past sensors.
“How are going to get past them noticing us?” she asked.
“They’ve got a riot on their hands,” he said as he sat down and turned on the pod’s computer. The viewscreen began scrolling lines in the Merloni language, the same language she remembered from their original trip. Now, it seemed, Logan had no problem reading it. “I’m glad this thing is self-explanatory.”
“I hate to break it to you but riot or not, someone’s still driving the ship.”
“Escape pods are also called life pods because they are equipped with cloaking devices,” he replied, concentrating on the buttons before him. “Just in case an enemy is firing upon them. This button will provide us with that protection. Strap yourself in, Emmarie.”
She hurried to the other seat and did as he instructed. A second later Logan hit a command and the escape pod ejected out. Emmarie felt like she was on a roller coaster plummeting downward as the pod blasted out into the inky darkness of space.
“Now,” Logan drawled as he took hold of the small craft’s joystick, maneuvering the ship how he wanted. “They’ll know a pod jettisoned but they won’t be able to track us.”
“Are we going back to Arden?”
“I believe we’re on the other side of the Outlaw Rings,” he said, pointing to a small map in viewscreen’s corner. “I don’t think we should chance the asteroid field.”
“Then what do we do?”
Logan took a deep breath. “I’m going to find us a place to hide.”
“Hide? For how long?”
“I don’t know, I’m winging it.”
“Logan, we can’t stay hidden in enemy territory indefinitely! We’ll need provisions…food, water…a toilet.”
“I know! I’m thinking.”
She watched as his eyes darted over the screen before him. Most of it showed the space they traveled through, but on each side were scrolling pictures and what she assumed were instructions, and could only hope they were giving some valuable tips.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I know the frequency that the Durians used whenever they communicated with Sparta, so I think I can jury-rig some type of distress call that only they’ll hear.”
“You can do that? Are you positive?”
“I’ve learned a lot over my last few weeks at command central, working with computers,” he replied grimly. “I could go on Star Trek and teach them a thing or two about technobabble.”
She had to smile at that. It reminded her when they’d woken up on the crashed Merloni ship.
“So we’ll stay on board until they find us,” he announced.
“What about the other necessities?”
“The inventory of the pod shows about two weeks’ worth of rations,” he said. “I’m hoping we don’t need that much.”
“What if we do?”
“If it starts getting a bit desperate, then…we’ll have to make decisions at that time. For now, we’re safe enough.”
She turned to the viewscreen and stared at the glittering stars, wishing there was someplace safe to go. But this was a dangerous world and she could trust nothing. That included the person sitting next to her. Logan might say he was trying to make amends, but a little voice in the back of her mind kept whispering that perhaps he only saved her because he’d need something to negotiate with in case they ended back in Lord Palazio’s grip.
* * * *
The internal clock on the pod’s viewscreen announced it had been three days since they found themselves lingering in space. Emmarie had discovered a whole new definition to the phrase bored out of one’s mind. She tried to keep herself occupied by singing, but her vocal chords could only take so much. Logan had tried playing word games with her but she wasn’t ready to get comfortable with him. The wound of his betrayal was still too fresh. They’d fallen mostly to monosyllabic communication with each other.
Emmarie mostly slept. In dreams she could be with Pell again, they could be a family, together. It was a strange type of hell, dreaming of his hands upon her, touching her, bringing her to heavenly delights, only to wake up before the climax and realizing there might be a possibility she’d never see him again. He’d gone on a suicidal mission, one that had killed his parents, and it just about shattered her heart. What would she tell their son? Would he grow up with the same blind drive to avenge a man he’d never really known?
She wanted to cry, but her tears were almost all dried up. She couldn’t feel sorry for herself when she was at least free, for right now, of the Unarian hold. What had happened to the others? Had they been recaptured? Slaughtered for their uprising? Sent to be slaves?
On the fifth day of their brash escape from the ship, the pod’s computer began to chirp. Logan immediately went into action, reading the scribbles being displayed. Emmarie waited, her breath held in terror and her mind racing with thoughts of what, or who, had found them.
“It’s an encoded Durian message,” he said, a bit stunned. “They found us.”
Emmarie closed her eyes, silently thanking whatever God had followed them to the Amarante System, that good luck was with them. She placed her hand over her belly and gave a tender, little smile.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When she stepped from the pod, the first person she saw was Willoughbee. So overcome with relief at seeing the stoic-looking leader, Emmarie threw her arms around her and burst into tears. The surprised woman gruffly hugged her back but it was clear giving emotional support was out of her comfort zone. Willoughbee cleared her throat and gave her an awkward pat on the back before pushing her gently back.
“It is good to see you,” Willoughbee stated softly. “I’ve been worried.”
“How is everyone? Leona? Pike? Have you…have you heard from Pell?”
“The hub has been destroyed,” said a voice behind her.
&
nbsp; Startled, Emmarie turned and saw Scarface. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his body big and hard and immobile. Two other Durian soldiers stood behind him, mimicking the stance.
He gave her a perusal up and down and Emmarie knew she was in desperate need of a bath and a decent meal. Her hair was greasy and itched and every once in a while she caught an unpleasant whiff of herself.
“When we questioned some of the others on the Merloni ship, they said they saw you being pulled along behind Logan. We’ve been searching for you, Miss Tice.”
“Thank you…I don’t know your name.”
“I am High General Nairan Val’un.” He gave her a small, stiff bow before looking over her head. Logan had just exited the pod.
“Logan Crusic,” Willoughbee greeted coldly. “You will follow these Durian soldiers to a holding facility until we reach the Durian home planet. From there, you will face treason charges.”
Logan’s eyes widened behind his glasses but if he felt fear, he didn’t show it. “All right. Please take care of Emmarie. She’s innocent.”
“We know that,” Willoughbee stated.
Emmarie stepped forward but General Nairan’s hand closed over her shoulder. “I only escaped because of him. He knew he’d done something horrible and he wanted to make amends.”
Willoughbee didn’t say anything. Logan sent her a grateful glance before he looked resolutely at the Durian soldiers. He followed after them as they escorted him away.
“What’s going to happen to him?” Emmarie asked.
“Even though he committed treason,” Willoughbee said, “the unprovoked attack by the Unarians on Durian territory brought the Durians to our aid. When General Nairan learned you had been taken, he personally launched the attack against all Merloni medical ships. Once they found the one you had been on and learned you escaped through the pod, he had his people scanning for it.”
Emmarie looked up at the coldly imposing general. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“I am…pleased…to see you well. Willoughbee will escort you to your quarters where you may freshen up.”
Emmarie felt heat steal into her cheeks. The general gave another formal nod to them before turning on his heel and walking away. The Durian ship was quite different than the Merloni medical ship. While that one was white, steel, and sterile, this ship was purely militaristic. Dark colors, minimal paneling, much of the ship seemed under construction, although she had the feeling it was just a no-nonsense approach the Durian military used.
Willoughbee began walking in the opposite direction than the one they had taken Logan, and although she felt a pang for the man, she knew he had to reap what he sowed.
“Have you heard from Pell?” she asked Willoughbee.
“We have not. We have received reports that the hub has been destroyed but so far Captain Raiden and his two accomplices are missing.” She sighed. “I’m afraid he might be…lost.”
Emmarie felt a cold hand seize her heart. Tears sprang in her eyes but she blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time to get emotional. “What about Leona and Pike?”
“Both are safe and back at Sparta, trying to salvage what they can.”
“I’m pregnant,” she reported softly.
Willoughbee looked at her in surprise. “Did Captain Raiden know?”
“I didn’t know,” Emmarie stressed. She caressed her belly. “They were going to take my baby from me.”
“Rest assured, your baby will be safe. The unprovoked attack on Sparta ignited a war the Unarians are ill-equipped to fight, even with the Kexian force behind them.”
Politics were the last thing on her mind. “Where can he be?” she achingly asked.
Willoughbee sighed. “I wish I knew.”
* * * *
Lost.
The ugly word just reverberated through her head until she thought she’d go crazy. She lay in her bunk, the lights off, and the tears just ran down her cheeks to soak her pillow. She couldn’t show her sadness in front of others who’d lost so much.
There’s that word again. Lost.
Gone.
So much. So very much.
Lost.
Her life on Earth had been a place of contentment, of easiness and individualism. Her days had been spent with friends, and with singing, and with minding her own business. But this new home of hers, it was harsh, it was full of conflict and pain, and sometimes it confused the hell out of her. Did she really think some songs or some silly stories could make a difference?
Pell was gone. He’d left behind a big, gaping hole that could never be filled. She held a part of him inside her, she carried his baby, and even though she loved the miracle she and Pell created together, she missed his arms around her, missed his taste, missed his warmth and gentle humor.
But she still couldn’t cry in front of anyone. What made her any better than those who lost family members, friends, and loved ones? But there in the dark, alone, she was free to let her self-pity emote itself, for the one person she lost.
She still hated that word.
So for now, she indulged in her pity party. Tomorrow she was going to have to figure out how to get the hell out of here.
Chapter Twenty-Four
General Nairan diverted from his tactical advantage to take Emmarie and the rest of the rescued Spartans to Dura’s capital, which was simply named Main City. Since the General commanded Ship One, Emmarie figured they weren’t very creative when it came to naming things.
They docked at Dura’s space port before taking a smaller craft to the city’s busy station. At first glance, Main City reminded her of New York with glass skyscrapers reaching high in the sky. It was a hubbub of computer sophistication and high-tech gadgetry underlined by green glass high rises and constant motion. Set against such a backdrop, she couldn’t help but think of Christmas trees with the Durian people as walking, breathing red ornaments.
The refugees were taken to a processing house where Missionaries loaded them into vehicles to provide shelter and food. She didn’t see Logan and wondered if she ever would again. It made her a little sad. They had started this journey together and now he was a traitor to the human race. She knew what he’d done was wrong. She would forever wear a brand on her chest to remind her of his treachery. But part of her felt sorry for him because she knew what he was feeling. She had wanted nothing more than to go home to Claring, to see her friends again and not have to worry about being caught as a slave.
She and Willoughbee were led to an official room, complete with flags and symbols that must be important to the culture. It reminded Emmarie of a courtroom, although a judge’s bench was lacking. Instead, two raised platforms presided high over the other chairs set in a semicircle around the room. At a podium between the platforms were three very distinguished-looking Durians, two men and one woman. The men had long white beards and white hair while the woman had gray hair pulled into a severe bun at her nape.
General Nairan led them to the waiting trio and then gave a formal bow. “My lords, my lady. May I present the human leader, Willoughbee, and the human’s chronicler, Miss Emmarie Tice.”
She looked at him in surprise. What a fancy way to say she sang songs and told stories. She followed his lead and did her best curtsy, trying to remember everything she learned from movies.
“Thank you for honoring us with this meeting,” Willoughbee very diplomatically said.
“The Durian Republic was founded on certain principals,” said one of the Durian men. “And yet a conflict with the Unarian Empire was not one we would have chosen.”
“My birth country was the same way,” Emmarie said, speaking up. “A war had broken out in a place called Europe when a psychopath began murdering innocent people. My country tried to stay out of it until one of our territories was bombed, and then we went in full force.”
“Did your country win this war?” the Durian lord asked.
She nodded. “The Allies did win, but not without many causalities. So I unders
tand your hesitation, my lord, but my country was founded on revolution and so to me, to us, we say sic semper tyrannis, which loosely translates to death to tyrants.”
The Duraian lord gave a ghost of a smile. “As effective a chronicler as you seem to be, it is hard for us to press an advantage of human cruelty when we’ve never even seen their…”
He trailed off as Emmarie shifted her shirt to reveal the brand that marred the smoothness of her chest. She heard Willoughbee’s shocked gasp.
“I didn’t think they had enough time to brand you,” Willoughbee said, regret in her voice.
“What do you mean?” the general demanded. “This is common?”
Willoughbee nodded. “The humans who escape the slavery lines have these brands. Needless to say, they go to great lengths to hide them.”
The general’s face was like a block of stone. His eyes, however, glowed with indignant fury.
The Durian lord shook his head. “We never knew.”
“Who did this?” General Nairan asked Emmarie in a voice tight with anger.
“The Unarian said his name was Lord Palazio of the First House of Glajani,” she reported. “He told me that he had commissioned for the Merlonis’ raid on Earth, the raid where I was taken. The first bar represents a working slave, the second is a breeder’s bar, and a third would be for those destined to be brought into prostitution. I take it you know what prostitution is, right?”
Several heads nodded.
“I was strapped inside this cage and a laser burned my skin, without aid of any type of pain medicine. And then Lord Palazio said that once my baby was born it would be taken from me and I would have another bar added to show his ownership of my body for his personal use. So turning a blind eye to any cruelty is the same as condoning it.”
“You are with child?” General Nairan asked softly.
She looked at him. “I am. And my baby will be just as free as I am, as any human should be.”
“Well said,” the female Durian leader stated softly. She gave Emmarie a gentle smile. “And how would you find your way into the hearts of Durians who so wish to ignore the talks of recognizing human citizenship?”
Carter, Beth D. - Star Mates (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 12