by Jaleta Clegg
"Do you want your ship readied?"
"The fastest messenger ship available," Querran agreed. "And send a copy of the report by message capsule to Procyon. Mark it urgent, top secret, deliver personally to Commander Grant Lowell. I’m fairly sure he’s involved in this up to his eyebrows."
"Yes, ma’am," Marshay said. The map faded as she rolled it back up. She left.
Querran sat at the table, thumbing through the folder in front of her. The whole base was going to light up fairly soon. Marshay’s quiet orders would stir up a hornets’ nest of activity. What an unholy mess, Querran thought to herself. Why her sector? Why during her vacation? She was going to give Lowell a piece of her mind when she saw him. A big piece.
She yawned and stretched. It was going to be a long night and she was already tired. She was getting too old for these games. But the excitement stirred to life. She was going on the hunt. She may be getting gray, but she wasn’t toothless yet. She grinned a feral grin and started plotting her moves.
Chapter 21
When I woke again, aching and battered, we were in hyperspace. I stayed on the bench, trying not to move. Every muscle ached. Even my toenails complained of pain.
They marched out Jasyn, Clark, Ginni, and Habim sometime later, seating the four of them at the table and watching them eat. No one offered me food. I didn’t ask for any. I was afraid I’d throw it back up.
Ghost drifted out from wherever she’d been hiding and curled on my lap. Her purrs rattled my bruises, but her soft warmth was soothing. Harris saw the cat and sneered. But he left her alone.
We came out of hyperspace a day later. We didn’t land. We settled into orbit while Harris made a series of calls. He was in a very good mood when he finished. He gloated over me for a while. I didn’t respond. If he was happy, that meant bad things for me, very bad things. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cringe.
And try as I might, I couldn’t figure a way out of this mess.
We headed back out again a day later. The ship slipped into hyperspace under Jerimon’s piloting. I couldn’t find the energy to hate him. I was sore, tired, sick of sitting on the bench, and I was starting to smell funny.
I waited until the ship was settled into hyperspace and Harris was busy plotting at the galley table. He had papers scattered across it and a reader on top.
"I want a shower," I said.
Harris glanced at me.
"Can I please use my bathroom? To change clothes at least." I hated having to beg anything from him, but maybe if I played it right, I could convince him I was starting to crack.
He studied me with his snake eyes. "You do look a bit off. Please, captain, clean yourself up. We wouldn’t want you to become offensive." He smiled at his joke, but no one else did.
I stood, muscles complaining. Tom escorted me into my cabin and watched while I found a clean shipsuit. One of the other thugs went into the bathroom. I heard him searching drawers. He came out shortly carrying an armful of all the assorted things I kept in my bathroom. He dumped them on the bunk. I reached for my hairbrush. Tom grabbed my arm. I couldn’t keep in the gasp as he squeezed bruises.
"I just want my hairbrush," I said.
Tom relented. He let me take my brush but nothing else.
I went into the bathroom. Tom planted himself in the doorway. He at least had enough decency to look into the cabin instead of staring at me. I went into the tiny shower and shut the door before I stripped off my filthy clothes.
The hot water felt good on my bruises. I wanted to stay in there and just keep cycling the water over and over. After the first cycle, Tom cleared his throat. I pushed the blower button.
I dressed in the shower. It hurt. It wasn’t easy either. The shower was very small. Tom leaned in the open doorway when I came out. I brushed my hair, watching him in the mirror. He finally decided I was dawdling and pulled me out by one arm. He took the hairbrush away then tossed it onto my bunk.
He pushed me back to the bench. Ghost sat there, licking her paw. She flattened her ears and hissed at Tom. Then she looked at me and meowed imperatively. She was hungry. I glanced over at Harris.
"The cat’s hungry," I said. "Can I feed her?"
He gave me a nasty look.
"Please?" I hated him. I hated what he was forcing me to do.
He snapped his fingers at the thug hovering behind him. "Feed the blasted cat."
The thug stared helplessly at me. "Where’s the food?"
"Third cupboard over," I said. "Can I at least show him how?"
Harris leaned back in the chair. "What game are you playing, Dace? I don’t like games. Except my own."
"I’m not playing games," I said and let all my weariness and pain color my words. "I just want to feed my cat."
He studied me with his cold, harsh eyes. I tried to look as innocent and beaten down as I could. It wasn’t hard. Harris finally nodded.
I carried Ghost across the lounge to the galley. She danced on the counter while I opened a cupboard and got her food ready. The thug hung over my shoulder watching every move I made. I put her bowl of food on the counter. Ghost gobbled it down with an odd choking motion that Jasyn had assured me was normal for cats. The thug watched her eat for a moment before pushing me away. Tom dragged me back to my bench.
They pretty much ignored me after that, as long as I sat on the bench and didn’t make noise. Ghost finished eating and disappeared into the ship. I tried doing some of my exercises, slow and easy on my battered body. Harris shot me one suspicious look before concentrating on his papers. He didn’t say anything so I kept going. My bruises eased somewhat as I stretched.
Time passed. They gave me emergency rations to eat, small cubes, dry as dust and just as tasteless. They were designed to give the minimum necessary nutrients to keep someone alive. They were better than the chicken noodle that the thugs ate. I got a small satisfaction out of that. None of them knew how to cook and all we had other than the fresh foods Jasyn used was chicken noodle and a couple of the other really cheap meals that stored indefinitely. I hated all of them. I was happy enough to choke down the tasteless cubes they tossed my way.
We spent a much longer time in hyperspace, three days by my count. I might have been off. They kept the lights up to full levels all the time. Harris didn’t keep a regular schedule that I could tell. He worked for hours, poring over his papers. He suddenly jumped up and paced manically for an hour or two after that, taunting me. Then, just as suddenly, he went into my cabin and slept. I heard him snoring through the open door. He repeated that pattern at odd intervals the whole flight. He had to be on some kind of drug. It would explain the weird mood swings and the blank stares he occasionally sent me.
I was asleep when the reentry alarm sounded. Old habits had me up and headed for the cockpit before I was fully awake. Tom grabbed me and threw me at the bench. He loomed over me while Jerimon and the other two that flew my ship went into the cockpit. Harris joined them and slid the door shut. Only then did Tom relax.
"Old habit," I said, trying to explain. I didn’t want another beating. Tom was impervious to anything I said. He was like a machine, he did exactly what he was ordered to do and nothing more. I was beginning to suspect he wasn’t really human.
I tried to go back to sleep. As far as kidnappings went, this was mild. Other than beating me black and blue, Harris hadn’t done much to me. His version of psychological warfare was nastier, true. He was destroying my reputation and my Guild standing first. I suspected the really vicious stuff was still to come.
We landed, the ship touching down gently. Jerimon was a very good pilot, as good as I was. He was also a conniving, backstabbing, untrustworthy, sneaking traitor. What had I ever seen in him that was the least bit attractive? I wanted to hate him. He was still Jasyn’s brother. Maybe he had some redeeming quality I’d somehow overlooked. Not likely.
Harris gathered up most of his thugs and headed out the hatch. Tom still loomed over me. I caught a single
glimpse out the hatch. It was night wherever we’d landed. Jerimon came out of the cockpit, after running system checks on the ship. He stopped near my bench, as if he wanted to say something. I turned my back on him. I didn’t trust myself not to try beating him up if he opened his mouth. I knew the consequences of that. Tom would grab me and proceed to beat me again. I rolled over, my face almost against the wall and ignored Jerimon.
I must have fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes again, the ship was mostly dark, the lights night dim. Something had woken me up, something that felt wrong.
I heard quiet footsteps. Tom grunted in sudden pain. There was the sound of flesh smacking flesh. Someone leaned over me. I swung my fist up and over as I rolled off the bench. I knocked whoever it was back a step. One of the thugs grabbed the figure and started pounding.
The whole lounge was full of fighting figures. The newcomers wore masks of dark cloth that had holes where their eyes glittered. They wore loose tunics and trousers, belted with wide sashes. Their boots were whisper quiet as they moved. Harris’ thugs were evenly matched for the moment.
I crouched on the floor and saw my opportunity to do something. I darted into the control room.
And ran right into Jerimon. He grabbed my wrists, pulling me up close to him. He hit the button for the door, it slid closed. Jerimon pressed me against the wall, still holding my wrists. I jerked them loose. Or tried to. He tightened his grip and pushed me back harder.
"Dace, listen to me," he whispered.
I spit in his face. "You sold me out to Targon, you slimy weasel," I whispered back. "Did they pay you the full reward? Or are you splitting it with Harris?"
"Shut up and listen for once in your life."
"Listen to more of your lies?" I twisted and kicked him in the shin.
He moved exactly the way I’d expected. My knee caught him in the crotch. He doubled over. I jerked my hands free and dove over him, towards the control boards. He recovered faster than I expected. He grabbed my shoulders and yanked me back. I slammed my hand out. I hit the emergency alarms. The ship was suddenly full of red light and shrieking alarms. The outside lit up like a beacon.
Jerimon threw me behind him. I hit the door as it opened and sprawled into the lounge. The attackers in masks melted out the hatch, disappearing as mysteriously as they’d come. Jerimon cut the alarms and brought the ship lights up. Tom picked me off the floor and hurled me onto the bench. He had a swollen lip and was bleeding from one ear. All of the thugs seemed to be in mostly one piece. Whoever the attackers had been, they hadn’t done more than superficial damage.
"Phoenix Rising, do you require assistance?" Port authority was calling, because our alarms had just gone off. I made an abortive move towards the cockpit.
Tom clamped his hand over my mouth, pulling me against him where I could watch everything Jerimon did but I was helpless to do anything myself. I kicked backwards, aiming at Tom’s shin. He shook me hard enough to warn me. I went limp.
"False alarm," Jerimon said. "We were doing some repair work and accidentally set them off. Sorry about that."
Port authority signed off with a warning to Jerimon to be more careful about which wires he crossed. I swore to myself. Jerimon stayed in the cockpit, sitting with his back to me as he went through the steps to reset the systems.
Tom shoved me at the bench. I sprawled on the cushion. He stood over me, his thick face impassive. I was in for another beating.
Another one of the thugs slapped the controls for the cabin door so he could check on the other four. They’d done something to the door lock, I watched the thug work over the lock for several minutes before the door slid open. I craned my neck, trying to see into the cabin. Tom smacked me on my shoulder, sending me tumbling back onto my side.
I caught a faint murmur of conversation before the door slid closed again. The thug reset the lock.
I sat and sweated until Harris showed up. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. He eyed me coldly while his men reported what had happened. I saw cracks in his sophisticated facade. He wasn’t the cool, suave gentleman he wanted to appear. He was just a more elegant thug in a better suit of clothes.
He didn’t say a word to me. He flicked a signal to one of his thugs. The man opened the door to Jerimon’s cabin and hauled Clark out. The thug held him while two others worked him over. He had two black eyes and a fat lip before they tossed him back into the cabin and locked the door again.
"That was very stupid of you, Dace," Harris told me. He flicked his finger at Tom.
I was hauled up by Tom and held while the others beat me. Again.
When they finished, they dragged me into my cabin and locked me into the bathroom. I curled up on the floor, which wasn’t very big, and tried not to whimper. They hadn’t touched my face, but the rest of me was one big bruise.
I wanted out of the nightmare. I wanted to make Jerimon pay for getting me into it. I wanted to stop hurting. I wanted to sleep in my bunk. I just wanted to fly my ship and make a living trading things. What had I done to offend the cosmic gods? Hadn’t I been through enough trouble yet?
A single tear rolled down my nose and dripped onto the floor. Why me? How much more did I have to suffer?
I didn’t get to cry and feel sorry for myself very long. The door opened and Tom dragged me out. He handled me like I was nothing. He picked me up one handed and dangled me, toes barely touching the floor, back into the lounge. He dropped me onto the floor at Harris’ feet.
Harris nudged me with his boot. I stayed on my knees, hands on the floor to keep from falling flat on my face. I didn’t look up at him. I’d lose what little control I still had if I saw his smug face.
"What did you do to offend the Sidyama?" He sounded genuinely puzzled.
"You figure it out," I said.
His boot caught me on the chin and sent me sprawling. He leaned over me and grabbed the front of my shipsuit. He jerked me up so we were nose to nose. "You will tell me or I will beat it out of your friends."
"Ask Jerimon. He knows. Or didn’t you think of that?"
Harris threw me on the floor. He kicked me a few times for good measure. I curled up and tried to hide the most tender portions of my anatomy.
"Fetch me Jerimon Pai," Harris snarled at one of his thugs.
Jerimon came out of the cockpit flanked by thugs. "You wanted me?" he said to Harris. His attitude had just the right amount of servility to mollify Harris.
"Why are the Sidyama after you?" He aimed a kick at me, though he was talking to Jerimon.
Jerimon flipped a glance down at me. "Is that who that was? I wasn’t aware they’d follow us here."
I waited for him to betray us all again. He was going to tell Harris the Sidyama were after Habim and Ginni. And then Harris would call them up and offer a deal and Ginni and Habim would be dead. I glared at Jerimon, knowing he was going to condemn them and I was helpless to stop him.
"We violated some of their customs when we were on Brugundhi," Jerimon said. "Dace really offended the high priest."
I was surprised. Why was Jerimon protecting us now? After betraying us? No, he betrayed me. Harris didn’t care about the rest of the crew. Maybe Jerimon still had some shred of decency and honor left.
"Enough to chase her all the way here?" Harris wasn’t buying Jerimon’s explanation.
"You followed her all the way out here," Jerimon said.
"True."
"You have no idea how much trouble she can cause without even trying."
"I’ll have to disagree with that." Harris kicked me again as he snapped his fingers at one of the thugs. "Find a way to contact the Sidyama. Tell them this," he kicked me again, "is mine. Any more moves against us will be interpreted as declarations of open war." He turned away, seating himself at my table. Drinking from my mug again. Insult upon insult.
"Did you get the chain installed?" Harris asked one of the thugs.
"Ready, sir."
"Good." Harris nodded.
Tom reached one hairy hand towards me. Jerimon intercepted it.
"Let me," he said.
Tom looked at Harris, who nodded.
Jerimon pulled me to my feet. He had to hang onto me so I wouldn’t fall over. One of the thugs had got my knee again. It wasn’t going to hold my weight. I limped where Jerimon pushed me. Back to the bench. I hated that bench. I hated the green cushion with the frayed edge. I hated everything, including myself. Why couldn’t I fight back better? Why was I letting this happen? What could I do about it?
Jerimon pushed me onto the bench. There was a bright, new, shiny chain attached to the wall, with a pair of shiny cuffs linked by another length of chain sitting on the cushion. They were going to chain me up. Something snapped in my head. I’d been chained up before, sold as a slave. I couldn’t live that nightmare again. Jerimon reached for the cuffs. I slammed myself into him, knocking him backwards. I launched myself for the hatch, ignoring the ripping pain in my knee. I landed on Tom, my fists flying. There were too many of the thugs in the way and I was too crippled by my most recent beating.
They caught me in their beefy hands and beat me until I passed out.
I woke up wearing the cuffs and chained to the wall. I went crazy, screaming and yanking at the chains until my hands bled. It didn’t do any good. Harris clubbed me across the back of my neck and put me out again.
Chapter 22
"They were reported here just two days ago," Marshay said.
Querran stood behind her second, watching as the younger woman talked to the Patrol base on Faidyara.
"There were several disturbances reported, but nothing that they felt warranted investigaton," Marshay continued. "The message capsule arrived just after the Phoenix lifted, destination unknown. An anonymous message arrived shortly after that, the ship was carrying a full cargo of stolen Patrol rifles and blasters. The commander on base is livid over it. He has three of his officers in custody and wants permission to execute them as soon as possible."