by Susan Grant
The blade he pressed into the pilot’s throat rode the bob of a swallow. “Yes, my lord.”
Klark didn’t care to abuse a loyal Vedla soldier in such a way, but even his hostage starpilot would understand why he’d had to do it soon enough. Now, with the blade at the starpilot’s neck and the ion pistol he’d wrested from the startled man at the ready, Klark made certain he’d be light-years away by the time someone entered his quarters and discovered that he was gone.
The alert had not yet gone out about his escape—or if it had, it was being handled as a private, internal crisis. He would hear the transmissions when and if a Federation-wide search commenced. But no matter how the Vedlas chose to handle his escape, Klark was on his way. His throbbing neck-wound pounded out a staccato beat of anticipation.
Soon the starfighter would leave the sprawling do-main of Eireyan space. Klark watched his home star shrink to a pinpoint of light. “Now,” he murmured.
With a blade pressed to his throat, the starpilot made transmissions that gained the ship clearance beyond the commercial space lanes, and into interstellar space where it could accelerate to greater-than-light speeds, arguably the greatest gift of technology left to the galaxy’s modern humans from the lost civilization that predated history and spawned them all. But to Klark, the incredible speed was a gift of a more personal nature. It would allow him to rendezvous with the Earth princess before Hoe or anyone else stole from him that long-awaited, singular satisfaction.
Only two men knew the identity of the second speeder, the one that would carry the Earth princess, the one Klark would snare as soon as it left Earth space, stealing that victory from Hoe. How could he fail? With the speeder’s identification entered into his starfighter’s computer, the commandeered war craft would track her down like a hungry night-shark.
Klark whispered to himself, and to the starpilot’s consternation—it seemed he frightened the poor fellow, as he did most everyone else: “Soon, my little princess, soon. And then I will arrive to escort you to your destiny.”
At that, Klark began to laugh. He’d always had the most delightful way of phrasing things.
Chapter Twenty-two
Muffin whistled as he trimmed the hedge along the walkway at Coast Municipal Airport. Ché was no longer on Earth; there was no need for Muffin to report to work. He could have quit, but somehow he didn’t. What kind of signal would that send to Copper? He wanted her to see in him a man of responsibility, a man with a good work ethic, a man whom a woman could trust to be a good provider, not one who abandoned an agreement he had made with an employer, regardless of the situation. Certainly, he had no intention of keeping his job at the airport, but it anchored his waning time on Earth with a feeling of “normal life.” A life he’d once scoffed at, but that now had become more and more enticing. He would put in his notice to quit, just like any other employee, once he decided what he wanted to do. He was working up the courage to ask Copper if she wanted to continue seeing him. She might not, once he told her who he really was. But he would not do that until his charge, Princess Ilana, was safely offworld.
“Hey, Big Boy,” he heard Copper call out. “I brought us lunch.”
Muffin turned to find her, dressed in a water-and-soap-splattered jumpsuit that told him she’d been working hard all morning washing airplanes. In her hands was a plastic cooler. Copper, he discovered, made lunches from the heavens. He wheeled his cart into the tool shed and locked it. Then they sat at one of the “picnic tables,” as Copper called them, to eat their meal. The buzz of light planes filled the background. The sun was bright and warm. It turned Copper’s round checks pink, and Muffin could count a few new freckles. She looked happy.
Eating silently, he enjoyed watching her. She simply smiled, already used to his quiet nature. “Have another.” She passed him a roast beef sandwich. She’d layered the meat with a tongue-searing sauce that he found delicious. He ate hungrily, his stomach nowhere near full. But luckily, there was more. Copper had brought boiled eggs, apples, grapes, a block of cheese, a variety of cold drinks, and a confection called “brownies” for dessert. Copper always served dessert. And when he took her out to eat, she always ordered it. It indicated a sweet and generous nature, his mother, had always insisted, a lover of desserts herself. Muffin would have to tell his mother, next time he called home to Thorme, just how right she was.
When they’d eaten their fill, they sat drowsily at the table. “It’s such a pretty day. I don’t want to go back to work,” Copper complained.
He wished she didn’t have to. He’d rather spend the day in her company. But reluctantly they cleaned up after themselves and trudged back to their jobs, planning to meet after work, as was their routine. She had just left when Muffin’s private comm chimed—a rare and rapid ring that was a signal for an emergency.
Adrenaline rushed to his muscles. He whipped out the comm and fled with it to the tool shed, slamming the door closed and locking it. It was dark, and the air was thick with the odor of grass clippings. But he was alone.
“Where is my sister?” he heard Ian bellow through the tiny communicator.
“Ahh…” Muffin wasn’t sure. “Packing her bags?”
“You aren’t watching her?”
“But, sir, Prince Ché has departed. I thought—”
“So did I. I apologize, Muffin, but we have a problem. Ché Vedla’s advisor Hoe put a call in to the Vedla king, who then passed on the information to Rom and me. It doesn’t get any more official than that.”
“Wh-what?” Muffin stammered uncharacteristically.
“Klark Vedla escaped. They found his locator, but no Klark. No one’s sure how long he’s been missing. Worst case, it’s long enough to interfere with Ilana’s flight, and I can’t reach her. Klark, or the rest of the Vedlas, I don’t know, may suspect that any relationship Ché has with Ilana could interfere with the Vedla wedding plans. For God’s sake, even I’m reduced to speculating. I have no facts. All I know is that Ilana is filming Ché. But if I believe it’s probably more than that, you can bet the Vedlas do, too. And that includes Klark.”
Muffin felt Ian’s fear as if it were his own. “I’ll find her.”
“I’ve tried her cell phone and her home phone, and she didn’t pick up. I left messages there and at SILF, and with Linda. All I got were answering services. Doesn’t anyone work in their offices anymore?” Muffin could see Ian taking a steadying breath. “She leaves tomorrow. I hope to God she’s out running last-minute errands. Find her, Muffin. Keep her safe until I figure out how to handle this. It’s a very delicate situation, as well as an urgent one. I can’t screw this up, and I can’t let my sister get hurt.”
Muffin came to attention, a warrior in a tool shed. “I’ll find her. I’ll protect her.” And by the Great Mother, he would.
Muffin made a round trip to Ilana’s apartment before Copper got off work. Ilana wasn’t there—or anywhere. He searched the vicinity, including the small grocery store Ilana frequented and the beach where she jogged. He’d watched her long enough to know her habits. But she was gone. And so was her car, missing from its parking space.
His neck prickled to the point of distraction. He swung his ground car into the employee parking lot and saw Copper walking to her motorcycle, her helmet and backpack hanging from one hand. Even from this distance, he could tell that she was forlorn. He’d been in the habit of meeting her, and then walking her to her car. She’d probably looked for him and found him gone.
“Copper!”
Her head lifted, and her smile broke like sunshine from behind a cloud. “I looked for you—”
He got out of his car and walked to her. “You once told me that you volunteered for overtime washing planes at Los Angeles Intergalactic.” He didn’t bother with the usual niceties. He couldn’t waste any time.
She eyed him curiously. “The company does business there, and also at Long Beach.”
“Can your ID get us onto the ramp at Galactic?”
“
The tarmac, you mean? Well, yeah. It’s standard airport employee issue.”
“Will it get us onto the space pad?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I never tried, though. The spaceships never need much washing,” she added with a grin, sobering when she read his anxiety, worry he knew must be flying off him in waves. She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“The woman I’m hired to watch may be in danger. I think she might have gone to the airport. If she’s there, I have to warn her before she takes off.”
“Can you call the airport? Or the police?”
He shook his massive head. “My boss wants to keep it quiet. The risk to her isn’t here. It’s what lies in wait at her destination that worries us.” Now he was speaking for Ian, but he was sure the crown prince would agree. Klark would not have had time to make it to Earth and be a threat to Ilana. But he was out there, somewhere, and Muffin had to protect her from him. He’d seen firsthand what Klark Vedla could do. He’d seen firsthand the man’s hatred. Blast it all! The Great Council should have executed him while they had the chance.
He didn’t need to explain further to Copper. She read his concern on his face. “We have to take my Honda,” she said. “It has the stickers we need to get on. That, and our airport IDs around our necks will get us a wave through the employee gate.”
Muffin eyed her two-wheeled vehicle with dismay. It suddenly looked very small. “I do not know how to drive this.”
Copper winked at him. “I do, Big Guy.” She tugged on her helmet and slung her leg over the seat. Lowering her visor, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Trouble,” the letters stamped on her helmet practically shouted at him. Something told him this expedition was going to lead to nothing but.
“There’s an extra helmet in the saddlebag,” she instructed. “Put it on and get on.”
Muffin smiled. Copper could be as sweet as could be. But he never minded when she took charge.
The small black helmet was too snug. It made his skull throb. But as long as it didn’t cut off the blood supply to his brain altogether, he would not complain.
He settled his bulk behind Copper. The motorcycle sagged under his weight. Copper laughed. “There you go again, making me feel like I weigh nothing. We almost did a wheelie!” But Muffin was in no mood to smile. Copper started the noisy engine and they were off.
Ilana climbed into the luxurious starspeeder. Linda followed her into the cockpit, which had room for a dozen people in a semicircle of seats against the rounded wall well behind the starpilot’s station. Ilana’s stomach was flipping, and her hands were sweating. She’d taken a Valium, and that seemed to be holding her steady—relative calmness that she owed to Linda’s reassuring presence and to Ché’s flying lessons.
God, she wished he were here. Not only for the support, but because she missed the guy. Rarely if ever had she missed a man she was dating. But as soon as Ché had left, she felt as if half of her were missing. Wait a second—dating? They were more than dating. Way more. They were engaged.
If his family approved, they were going to get married!
For a few uneven heartbeats, her anxiety over the impetuous decision she’d made regarding Ché was worse than her nervousness over flying. But it soon faded into mellow warmth that told her she’d made the right choice.
Her heart wrenched at the thought of her absent lover. He’d be arriving at the Wheel tomorrow. But with an earlier-than-planned departure and a willing pilot, she’d be right behind him.
When they’d gotten the word that Linda’s passport had arrived at the Federation embassy, Ilana and Linda had agreed: Why sit around waiting now that they had her travel papers in hand?
No one knew about the change in plans, not even Ian. And the starpilot had agreed to play along with her and not radio ahead. Ché would be so surprised!
“Let me make sure you’re buckled up nice and tight,” Linda said, fussing with Ilana’s seat harness.
Ilana smiled at her. “You’re such a mom. You should have had kids instead of dogs.”
“Don’t tell my babies that!” Linda buckled into her own seat next to Ilana’s. “They’re going to miss me as it is.”
The starpilot was a middle-aged man with friendly eyes and a cool, confident aviator’s manner. His light gold-brown eyes hinted at some Vash ancestry mixed in with his common blood. He checked that they were safe in their seats before giving them a briefing in curt Basic. “I’ll tell you when you can get up, my ladies,” he finished. “Remain seated until then.” Linda looked to Ilana for a translation.
“He wants us to sit down and shut up,” Ilana said out of the corner of her mouth when the starpilot returned to his station.
“At least some things are universal among pilots.”
Smiling, Ilana found Linda’s hand with her shaking sweaty one. “Keep making me laugh. I’m nervous.”
Linda’s hand squeezed hers back. “You used to laugh every time I brought up the idea of marriage and commitment. Any plans to keep in touch with that Vedla boy now that he’s gone home…I hope?”
Ilana’s heart skipped a beat. She wished she could tell her friend, but she’d promised she’d wait. “Yeah,” she replied with a private smile. “I guess you could say that we’ve decided to keep in touch.”
The spaceport held anything but a place of honor at one of Earth’s busiest airports. The pad was far from the commercial terminal, and far from any crowds. At this stage in Earth’s development, the spaceport didn’t see much traffic. In the years to come, as Earth’s culture caught up to the technology brought by its new association with the Trade Federation, that would change. Technology would drive tourism, and vice versa, and would eventually make the idea of space travel attractive to Earth’s billions, Ian had told Muffin. But, suiting Muffin’s needs perfectly, the nearly vacant space pad hosted but one craft, ejecting jets of steam. Muffin had seen a lifetime’s worth of starships poised for departure, and this was one of them.
Muffin squeezed Copper’s thigh, causing her to swerve the motorcycle. “There! That is the one!”
Copper stopped at a painted yellow line on the tarmac. The motorcycle’s engine idled, letting them speak without shouting. “Take me to it quickly.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
Copper’s integrity was what originally attracted him to the girl. But, Great Mother, it made his bodyguard duties very difficult. Ahead, the spacecraft let go of another fountain of steam. Muffin growled. He’d run for the ship himself, but instinct—and his prickling neck—told him that on foot he wouldn’t make it in time.
“The woman I’m trying to save is on that spacecraft. We can’t let it launch.”
“No, we can’t.” His nervousness had finally rubbed off on her. “We’ll tell the space tower. They’ll stop the launch. Here, I’ve got their phone number.” She twisted around as if to open the saddlebag. “Somewhere in my backpack…”
A rumbling penetrated Muffin’s too-tight helmet. The crew of the ship hadn’t raised the cargo ramp, but they’d started up their auxiliary ground engine, the prelude to starting the far more powerful thrusters needed to push the ship out of Earth’s atmosphere. They were minutes from leaving, maybe less.
Blast Ilana Hamilton for leaving early and not telling her brother! “Not enough time!” he yelled at Copper. “Go! Ride around to the nose and I’ll get the pilot’s attention.”
He saw those green eyes studying him, trying to ascertain whether to trust him. “If I say no, you’re going to go anyway,” she said, swallowing.
He hated to admit it. “Yes. I have to. It’s…my duty.”
“Duty,” she said. “That word gets to me every time.” She gunned the engine and they were off, speeding across the tarmac to the spacecraft. “Let’s help that woman!”
Laser-bright lights above the lowered cargo ramp began to blink in warning. As soon as the crew raised that ramp, launch would be imminent.
Copper leaned forward, strands of bright red
hair rippling behind her as they gained speed. She didn’t veer around to the front of the ship. Instead, she aimed for the ramp.
“Great Mother!” Muffin blurted out. She couldn’t be intending what he feared she was. “The ramp!” he shouted, warning her.
“I know!”
The ship’s lights blinked. Steam hissed. Then he heard the scrape of metal on asphalt as the ramp shuddered and began to retract.
“Hold on, Big Boy!” Copper cried. “We’re going in.”
“Copper, no!”
They bounced over the ramp’s threshold. “Here we go!” she sang out.
He didn’t know this woman. This wasn’t the sweet girl he’d been dating. But she was the woman who’d thrown him onto his back the day they met, meaning the two were one and the same.
They roared up the huge ramp. Muffin was too surprised to do anything else but clamp his big hands to her hips. Just as their acceleration gave out, the ramp lifted past the horizontal, sending them careening down the other side and into the huge cargo bay.
The shiny silver floor was slippery, and the lighting in the bay was dim. Copper lost control of the motorcycle, and they spun, skidding sideways. Sheer luck kept them from slamming into the boxes of freight piled high within. By the time the Honda fell onto its side, it was nearly stopped. They went over easy, but went down nonetheless.
He heard Copper’s helmet bang against the metal flooring. In an instant, he dragged her from under the fallen motorcycle and tugged off her helmet before tossing aside his own. Her eyes glowed with the thrill of what she’d just done. “I got us in! Now go, save her!” Her hair fell all around her sweet, round face as she pushed at him. “I’m not hurt.”
“You’re beautiful.” Muffin took her head in his hands, brought her mouth to his, and kissed her. Then the ship rumbled under his knees. His blood surged. “They will launch unless we tell them we’re here.”
They scrambled to their feet. Not wanting to leave her alone, he took her hand. They sprinted through a cargo bay filled with crates of coffee, chocolate, and beer. Odd. He thought the Vedlas shunned Earth products, and here the bay was full of Earth’s bounty. It looked more like the haul of an independent frontier trader than what one would expect to find in the bowels of an Eireyan starship.