“Now or never,” she muttered. Moving carefully, she slid her leg through the narrow gap she’d created and then contorted her body to ease past the jagged metal wall. Rough edges caught her shoulder and the pain nearly made her black out but she fell forward onto the ground and crawled a few feet away from the building, taking refuge under a scrubby, overgrown bush. She found herself in an industrial area, seemingly deserted. Blank-faced buildings stretched along the empty road in both directions. Her heart sank. She’d no idea where she was or if anyone would help her, even if she was lucky enough to find an occupied structure. Maybe the whole area harbored the slaver operation or similar criminals. “Trust no one,” she muttered. Desperate to escape, she was gathering her energy to stand and run, when a flash of light in the western sky caught her eye. The spaceport must be in that direction. Her only hope was to get across the city lines and find a policeman. Remembering the long limo ride was daunting, but she’d no other choice.
Alarmed by how shaky she was, Mira got to her feet, wincing at the pain from her shoulder. She started limping as fast as she could, praying to the Lords of Space she could escape her enemies, find a safe place to hide maybe. She’d have to keep to the side of the street, as much trouble as she was having with walking, and be ready to take cover if she heard sounds of pursuit.
Clint parked the car behind a building several blocks away from the one the police sergeant had pinpointed as the site of last night’s suspicious concert. Drawing his stunner, wishing it was a blaster, he moved along the line of warehouses and storage facilities, keeping to what cover there was. He held his breath and remained motionless as a large cargo hauler proceeded down the street, engine groaning, coming from the building where Mira had probably been kidnapped. He wondered what the truck was carrying and hoped she wasn’t even now being driven away, deeper into captivity.
As he got closer, he realized there was quite a stir of activity at the building in question. Rounding the corner of the last warehouse before the one he sought, he was amazed to see a battered, bloody Mira staggering along the street in his direction. Clint ran to her, hugging her for a moment before sweeping her into his arms and hastening into the dubious cover of a recessed doorway in the next structure.
She was shaking, clutching him tight. “I don’t know what brought you here but thank the Lords you found me,” she said.
“Ever since the damn ‘Lites boarded the shuttle without you this morning I’ve been out searching. I wasn’t going to abandon you on this fucking planet.” Gently he touched her shoulder, evaluating the injury. “Looks painful but superficial.” Tearing a strip from his shirt, he wrapped the area to stop the bleeding.
She bore his ministrations patiently even though he must have been hurting her a little. “Did the ‘Lites tell you where I was?”
He shook his head. “Completely unhelpful. A local cop gave me a tip about this place.”
“I shouldn’t have gone with them but I figured what was the worst that could happen?” She gave him a wavering smile. “As soon as the limo drove away from the club, I knew I’d made a mistake.”
He couldn’t help himself. “So why did you leave with them? I tried to stop you but I was a minute too late. Ordinary people like us don’t belong in the ‘Lites’ world.”
“I know.” Her voice was quiet. “I-I wasn’t having a good time where we were and Lindy insisted I should come. It sounded like fun. Did I really hear you calling my name as we drove away?”
“I tried to catch you, to keep you from leaving, to beg you not to go actually. I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you,” he said. “I was hoping we’d have a chance to get to know each other better on this shore leave, away from the ship, but dancing in a loud club wasn’t the right place for the kind of conversation I wanted. I was stupid, letting Becca distract me. I took too long to claim my slow dance to your special song, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” As she stared at him as he made his heartfelt apology, he added, “I’ve got a car parked two streets over. Can you walk?”
“I’ll make it.” She wiped tears off her cheeks and clenched her hand on his sleeve. “There are dozens of humans in there, in cryo cages. The conductor told me the prisoners will be shipped offworld and sold outside the Sectors. We can’t leave them.”
“We’ve got to get away first, before we can help them.” He put his arm around her waist to support her and drew her into retreating. “We’re outside the city limits right now, so no one will come to our assistance.”
Shouting broke out behind them.
“They know you’ve escaped,” he said. “We’ve got to make it to the car. Can you go any faster?”
She shook her head. “I’m groggy from the venom. I was stung twice, although the second dose of poison didn’t affect me as severely as I let the conductor believe. Maybe he overused his venom supply.”
He swept her into his arms and ran, as the shouting intensified. “Any idea how many we’re up against?”
“There were a lot of staff people the night of the concert but today when the conductor walked me through the warehouse I only saw two sentients besides him. Mostly cargo robos, loading the cages onto trucks.”
A blaster beam sizzled through the air, uncomfortably close, setting the grass on fire to Clint’s left. He zigzagged and got behind the next building, then cut through an alley. “Can’t let them cut us off from the car.” He burst into the open, sprinting toward the vehicle, ordering the doors to open and the engine to initiate so he could deposit Mira in the passenger seat and scramble to the other side to get in himself.
“The trucks are blocking the exit,” she screamed.
“Get down.” He yanked the car into a violent spin and drove for the rear of the parking lot, away from the two cargo haulers moving into position to block the street exit. He had no idea what lay beyond the fence but he hoped there might be another way out. The car jerked and slewed as it was hit with blaster beams. “Your conductor doesn’t want to let you go.”
“What can I do to help? Do you have another weapon?” she asked, checking the rear vids.
“Stunner only. Not allowed to carry deadly weapons on the planet.” He flashed her grin. “Although if I’d had time to make a round trip to the Zephyr first, I’d have brought an arsenal and to hell with legalities. Hang on!”
The ground car rammed into the fence, splitting the material, and kept moving, although the engine stuttered. Clint was surprised at how much abuse the vehicle was taking. He called for full power and drove west, toward the city and potential assistance. A sleek sports model flew out of a side street, forcing him to take evasive action and he barely missed an oncoming cargo hauler. The driver of the sports car shot at the car’s undercarriage. Swearing, he tried to accelerate and then threw the car into a 180 degree turn, as if he was going to ram the other driver. Engine screeching, the sports car lifted straight into the air to avoid the collision and landed behind Clint, already accelerating to overtake him.
“Not good, this is not good,” he said. The controls were growing sluggish and the overtaxed car’s speed was diminishing. “He must have done serious damage with those blaster shots.”
“What are we going to do?” Mira held onto the seat with clenched fingers, but her voice was calm.
Before he could answer, the decision was taken out of his hands, as the car was enveloped in a blast of flame, flipped and careened across the road, coming to rest against a rock wall. A sickeningly sharp pain in his left leg made him dizzy and he struggled to get free of the crash restraints. Mira was screaming, trying to help him get loose.
“I’m trapped,” he said. “Take the stunner, try to get away.”
She took the weapon but shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“They’ll be here any second, you’ve got to go.”
“Better than I expected.” The sibilant voice sounded triumphant. “Not only do I recapture my little lost human but she brought me another prisoner as well. Ge
t out of the car, girl.”
For answer, Mira shot at the conductor through the open car door. He staggered as the force of the stun beam hit him, but then shook himself like a dog shakes off water, laughing. “Your puny weapons don’t work on me. Innovana’a are immune to this particular tech.” Reaching inside, he grabbed her wrist and forced her to drop the stunner before attempting to drag her from the car.
Clint stabbed him at an awkward angle, not doing much damage but causing the alien to swear and retreat. Shaking his fist at them, he said, “When my men arrive, we’ll take care of both of you and you’ll regret all the trouble you’ve caused me.”
Mira huddled closer to Clint. “What are we going to do now?” she whispered.
“We’re pretty hosed and I don’t think help is going to arrive in time to do us any good. I’m sorry,” he said. “You need to take the knife, crawl over me, get out of the car and run before his thugs get here.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said again.
The rumble of a cargo hauler’s engine came closer. Clint tried to reason with Mira. “I called for backup, don’t know if anyone is coming or not, but if you can stay on the move, you might be okay.”
Before she could answer, there was a roar from overhead and a powerful flyer buzzed the street where they’d crashed. Clint craned to see what was happening. “It’s the Zephyr’s flitter. Jake must have come to help.”
The ship set down as close as it could get, and several armored security officers emerged on the run, weapons at the ready. “Hands up, Innovana’a,” said the man in the lead. “There’s nothing we’d like more than to take you down if you resist.” The other two officers circled, weapons at the ready, and came to the wrecked ground car.
“You two all right?”
Clint recognized the voice. Red Thomsill, second in command of the Zephyr’s security force. “A bit battered and bruised but we’ll survive. Listen, those guys have a warehouse full of human prisoners.”
“We won’t let them get away.”
Two planetary police flyers landed next to the shuttle and cops poured out, weapons at the ready. Several took custody of the conductor and his henchmen.
Clint heard sirens in the distance, growing closer. As Red and Jayna worked to free him from the car, while Mira stood by making suggestions, he said, “How did you get the local police interested in our party?”
“Captain Fleming’s been working his way up the planetary bureaucracy all day,” Red said. “He’s not a patient man, you know? And he went rogue comet when Jake relayed what you’d found out. Fleming’s a good guy. Never leaves a man or woman behind.”
“Weren’t you were supposed to be long gone by now though? Heading through hyperspace toward our next port?” Clint asked, mostly to distract himself from the pain of anyone touching his leg.
“In an amazing coincidence, apparently there was another problem with the late cargo.” Red gave him a slow wink. “Brace yourself. On three--”
Jake sauntered over as Red and Jayna levered Clint carefully out of the crashed car and laid him on the pavement. Jayna opened a medical kit, stabilizing his leg with skills acquired as a battlefield medic in the military. The local detective in the charge of the operation, suit as impeccable as ever, followed Jake.
“Thanks for breaking my case open,” he said to Clint. He nodded at Mira. “This your girl, the one you were hellbent on rescuing?”
Clint nodded, a little embarrassed. “Mira Gage, meet Detective Browlarr.”
The two shook hands.
“You were damn lucky this guy cares so much, miss. And that your captain has his back. I gotta go take charge of the scene at the warehouse,” the detective said. “What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?” Mira asked. “He obviously needs medical treatment for his injured leg.”
Browlarr tilted his head and gave Clint a meaningful glance. “This planet might not be the healthiest place for either of you right now.”
Remembering the sergeant had told him how witnesses had a way of disappearing and suspects died in custody, Clint grabbed her hand. “We’re not going to be treated anywhere but on board the Zephyr. She has to leave orbit and we’ve got to go with her, right, boss?” Hoping the commander would pick up on his intensity, Clint looked to Jake even as he addressed the detective. “You won’t need us for witnesses with all the evidence you’ve got and all the other people you’re going to rescue over at the warehouse, right, Browlarr?”
Jake didn’t miss a beat, apparently catching Clint’s drift about the danger of remaining on the planet. “Right, we’ve got to lift off now. I believe we’re outside your official jurisdiction anyway, detective? Maybe your warrants cover the slavers, but you don’t have authority over us.”
Browlarr raised his eyebrows. “It’ll take me time to get the clarification. Couple hours at least. Guess you’ll be well underway by then, right?”
“Absolutely.” Jake nodded to Red and Jayna. “Get him on his feet and let’s go.” He activated his comlink. “Shane, we’re leaving.” Behind them the engines of the Zephyr’s shuttle revved.
Mira stayed close as his fellow security officers half carried Clint to the shuttle, settling him as gently as possible in one of the seats at the front. She seated herself next to him, reaching for his hand. “I’ll never be able to thank you properly.”
“Guess we’ll have to wait a bit longer for that dance,” he said, shifting his nearly-immobilized leg in an effort to get comfortable.
“Line’s gonna dock your pay for that wrecked groundcar,” Jake said, punching Clint in the shoulder as he passed them on the way to the cockpit.
“A small price to pay,” Clint murmured, gazing into Mira’s eyes.
She leaned closer and kissed him softly. “I’ll help,” she murmured. “We’re in this together, right?”
“I like the sound of that,” he said.
Mira settled in beside him, her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her protectively and leaned his head against the seat, pain meds kicking in. The shuttle left the planet in its wake, heading toward the Zephyr and a future of possibilities Clint was eagerly anticipating.
About Veronica Scott
Best Selling Science Fiction & Paranormal Romance author and “SciFi Encounters” columnist for the USA Today Happily Ever After blog, Veronica Scott grew up in a house with a library as its heart. Dad loved science fiction, Mom loved ancient history and Veronica thought there needed to be more romance in everything. When she ran out of books to read, she started writing her own stories.
Three time winner of the SFR Galaxy Award, as well as a National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, Veronica is also the proud recipient of a NASA Exceptional Service Medal relating to her former day job, not her romances! She recently was honored to read the part of Star Trek Crew Member in the audiobook production of Harlan Ellison’s “City On the Edge of Forever.”
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Maricar’s Gamble
By Lyn Brittan
About Maricar's Gamble
Heat Level: Mild
Follow Mari Ocampo, a killer on the run willing to do anything to survive, even if it means the unthinkable: going on the fucking straight and narrow.
Chapter 1
Maricar Ocampo had lied, cheated, and threatened a colonial governor to get a room on this ship. Not that life had given her a freaking damn minute to enjoy her success. She eyed the sparse quarters she now called home. She’d had a rough landing, but she was alive. That was a win by anyone’s measure. Even if that meant being alive here...as someone else.
Maricar flipped back her once-long straight hair. It was now permanently curled and colored to hide who she was. Rather, what she was: a screwup and a killer with a conscience. It wasn’t a good mix.
She’d had one job. To kill her mark, Lana Kagen, and ask no questions. That was it. Easy-peasy. Instead,
she’d become the woman’s freaking roommate, accidental friend and had the nerve to help Lana fall in love—and fuck life if that didn’t backfire in the worst way. One failed assignment later, the chick had a flippin’ space station named after her for taking down the group that had paid Maricar to knock Lana off in the first place.
Yeah, one thing not to do her job. Another to throw it back into the faces of her employers for the entire star system to see.
“Maricar. Maricar.” She whispered the name to herself, letting the newness of it sink in. She’d been so many people over her years as a murderer. If she kept her hands clean, maybe this name would stick. She sure as shit couldn’t go back to the last one. “Mari-i-car.” She said it fast. She said it slow and every so often, she’d throw in the names of non-existent relatives she’d known her whole life.
New name.
New life.
New woman. Maricar’s single action of removing her finger from the trigger had lost billions of credits and demolished the fortunes of powerful people.
Sure, she’d saved lives in the process, but that didn’t mean jack to the architects of an aborted biological Armageddon. If her employers ever found her, they would kill her without a breath of hesitation. That left her one option: run. Run far, run long, and start over as someone else. Again.
In a backwards way, this presented a small comfort. Once she nailed this persona, she’d never have to change again. She could just be. She hadn’t been anyone for longer than a year in ages. Would she get bored? Did that happen to regular folks? The kind that get up, work, sleep and restart the cycle again?
Normalcy was a nasty business. She’d never had it. She’d been a killer, or been trained as a killer, her whole life. This would be the greatest con of the century if she pulled it off. Her chest tightened at the idea of a life-long game of pretend. But so long as she could feel her heart thudding against her chest, she was golden. Boring trumped dead every day of the week.
Romancing the Stars: 8 Short Stories of Galactic Romance and Adventure Page 3