“Damn it,” he muttered as the staggering sensations ebbed. “I was not ready for that to end.”
She laughed and touched his face, gaze filled with mischief. “Let’s catch our breath, maybe take a quick shower, then we’ll do it all over again.”
Chapter Twelve
Sunday arrived much too quickly for Dakar’s liking. Raylon and Sedrik agreed that it was well worth a trip to Earth to find out if Alyssa was right about her father. If Martin was at the equestrian center, alone or nearly so, they could bio-stream him to the Phantom without even leaving the ship.
Zilor Nox agreed to pilot the shuttle. He was one of the only battle born soldiers who had received formal training on the Phantom line, so his expertise was welcome.
Jakkin was less enthusiastic about the mission, but also agreed to participate. When Dakar suggested Jakkin allow Kelsey to visit Alyssa while they were gone Jakkin just said no, no explanation. Dakar was frustrated by his friend’s stubbornness, but chose not to make an issue of it.
Then Indigo, Zilor’s mate, agreed to keep Alyssa company—and make sure she stayed out of trouble—so Dakar didn’t feel quite so guilty about leaving her behind.
Not sure what to expect, Dakar and Jakkin wore flexlar body armor. They hoped the entire mission could be completed without leaving the ship, but wanted to be prepared for anything. Soldiers routinely trained in full body armor to maintain their strength and flexibility. Dakar, on the other hand, hadn’t dealt with the extra weight and subtle resistance for many months. The suit felt cumbersome, and he was worried that it would affect his performance.
Thanks to the Phantom, it took less than an hour to reach any destination on Earth from Lunar Nine. Dakar tried to use the limited time anticipating possible complications. “It’s likely he’ll have doubled his guards.”
“If he’s stupid enough to show up at all,” Jakkin muttered. His mood had been dark and argumentative since he streamed over from the Fearless. “It seems irrational to me that anyone would waste time on leisure activities if they know an enemy is desperate to abduct them.”
Zilor chuckled without turning from the ship’s controls. “Clearly you haven’t spent much time with humans. Half of what they do doesn’t make sense.”
“Your mate is human,” Jakkin pointed out. “Is she irrational?”
Unfazed by the insult, Zilor shrugged. “Most rules don’t apply to Indigo. She’s a law unto herself.”
“Martin Wallace has been calling the shots for so long it no longer occurs to him that anyone would dare to countermine his wishes,” Dakar brought them back on topic. “You should have seen him the other day. He was so smug and overconfident, it was laughable.”
“He had Kage Razel at his back,” Jakkin pointed out. “That would make any human smug.”
“It would make most Rodytes smug too.” Zilor finally turned his chair around so he could see the other two.
Dakar had chosen to sit in the center-facing seats with Jakkin, hoping to lighten his mood. So far, it hadn’t worked. “I didn’t see it, but Alyssa claims Razel shot one of the guards during the fight the other day. Very strange behavior for one of Martin’s allies.”
Jakkin waved away the comment. “Outcasts are even more irrational than humans. No one can predict what those fanatics will do.”
Zilor looked at Dakar, expression suddenly serious. “Have you seen or heard from Arton?”
Dakar shook his head. “We know he’s with the Outcasts, but he has no interest in a relationship with any of us.” They’d been led to believe Arton, Dakar’s oldest brother, was dead for many years. Finding out they’d been deceived hadn’t been as shocking as learning that Arton had joined the Outcasts. “He’s so different now. I’m not sure any of the boy I knew survived into adulthood.” He shook away the past. Now was not the time for troubling memories. They had an enemy to trap. “We’re expecting more guards. What else can humans throw at us?”
“We have to remember this particular human has dealings with other species,” Zilor reminded. “He could have all sorts of toys not found on Earth. You know, I’m dying to know more about the Evonti.”
“As are we all,” Jakkin agreed.
They arrived a short time later and slowly circled the property, determining the lay of the land and arrangement of the buildings. The ship’s covert shields kept them from being seen, but venturing too near the ground risked being heard and alerting their target to their position. So Zilor stayed high and used a variety of scanners to provide the needed information. They needed to catch Shadow Leader unaware.
After the initial assessing sweep, Zilor stabilized their position and put multi-layered readouts on the main viewscreen. “I believe this is the primary dwelling.” He pointed to a large structure, with a wraparound porch. The house sat up on a hill, slightly apart from the other buildings.
“Sounds right to me.” Dakar released his safety restraints and stood behind the navigator’s seat, lightly resting his gloved hands on the high seat back.
Soon Jakkin moved beside him, also facing the main viewscreen.
As Zilor compiled the readouts, assembling them like a three-dimensional puzzle, details slowly revealed themselves. They could see into the buildings, but everything inside was shadows and shapes. There were several uninhabited buildings on the other side of the house, likely classrooms and guest lodgings, judging from the shape and arrangement of the furnishings. But the large rectangular building situated at one end of a verdant valley was alive with activity. The building contained multiple doors, much too large for humans and the interior was divided into rectangular sections, a wide aisle down the center. Clearly this was where the animals were stored. The scans also showed ten humanoid forms mixed in with the horses.
The lush, grassy area outside the animal containment unit had been sectioned off as well. A multi-rail fence encircled the entire area, but inside the main fence were smaller areas. One section contained crude obstacles, another was dirt rather than grass and the distinct patter in the ground indicated that the horses were forced to move around in an endless circle. Dakar wasn’t sure what purpose any of it served, so he shifted his focus back to the structure housing the horses.
“He’s in this enclosure.” Zilor shifted his fingers within the control matrix and one of the rectangular subsections began to blink. A large animal was in the section as well and the shadowy image of a tall, thin human. The human stood very close to the beast, rubbing or perhaps brushing the creature.
“How do you know that’s him?” Jakkin wanted to know.
Zilor grinned. “Because the six people surrounding him aren’t human.”
“Evonti?” Jakkin asked hopefully.
“Sorry. Rodyte and Rodyte hybrids.”
Dakar nodded. “Can you get a lock on him?”
“I’m trying. Something is interfering with my targeting system.” Zilor’s hands flowed through the control matrix, making adjustment after adjustment. “Damn it. It’s no use. Something down there is jamming me.”
Dakar swore under his breath. He should have known this wouldn’t be easy. “Guess we’ll have to go get him.” He looked at Jakkin and smiled. “Are you ready to go kick ass?”
“Always.” Jakkin returned his smile, losing a bit of his gloom in the process.
“The jamming field isn’t large,” Zilor told them, “but it seems to be moving with him. We need to wait until he leaves the building. Three of those shapes read human, which means they’re civilians. You two can’t go in guns blazing if he’s surrounded by civilians.”
“And animals trapped behind enclosures.”
Dakar looked at Jakkin, not expecting the compassion from such a battle-hardened individual. “I agree. Give him a few minutes, and if he doesn’t leave on his own, we’ll create a commotion to draw him outside.”
They didn’t have long to wait and a commotion proved unnecessary. Martin Wallace emerged from the building mounted astride the massive animal. Six large males jogged a
long behind him, keeping up as best they could. Now that they were outside, the rebels had full visual. Zilor zoomed in on the scene. Martin looked relaxed and lost in the pleasure of riding his favorite pet. Shifting the perspective a bit, Zilor focused on one of the guards.
“Gods be damned,” Dakar snarled. “Outcasts again! What in all of hells rings did Shadow Leader promise them?”
“Don’t know,” Jakkin sounded just as angry as Dakar, “but we need to find out.”
“It’s now or never, brothers,” Zilor prompted. “No telling when other riders will join him in that field.”
“Put us down in those trees,” Dakar pointed. “Then we can knock off a few of the Outcasts before we rush Shadow Leader.”
“Got it.”
Dakar grabbed his helmet off the seat next to where he’d been sitting and put it on as he moved to the center of the shuttle. Jakkin donned his helmet then stood at Dakar’s back.
“You grab Shadow Leader,” Jakkin suggested as he snapped his visor down over his face. “I’ll keep the others off you long enough for you to drag him away from his men.”
“Agreed.” Dakar looked at Zilor or actually the back of Zilor’s head. “We’re ready.”
“Good luck.” Without turning from the controls, he raised one hand and waved.
Dakar lowered his visor and took a deep breath, bracing for the momentary vertigo inevitable with bio-streaming. The shuttle faded to black, then reality paused as all of Dakar’s senses lost contact with his brain. The disorientation lasted only an instant then his new surroundings gradually came into view. He squinted in the bright sunlight, activating his flexblade as expanses of rolling green came into view.
With usual precision, Zilor set them down in the exact location to which Dakar pointed. Dakar quickly transformed the dagger into a compact pulse rifle. In a wide-open field like this, there was no reason for caution, or moving to hand-to-hand techniques prematurely.
Jakkin bent to one knee at his side, pointing his weapon at the nearest guard.
“Hold off. Let me get Martin off that horse.” Taking careful aim, Dakar shot at Shadow Leader. The pulse struck his shoulder and side with enough force to knock him to the ground. The horse made a loud, distressed sound, then bolted for the trees. Its back legs struck the top rail of the fence as it leapt the barrier in terror, but the creature seemed uninjured.
Half a second after Martin hit the ground, Jakkin started pelting the guards with pulse blasts. His shots were fast and accurate, but the Outcasts had some sort of energy field shielding their bodies.
“Work your way around to Martin,” Jakkin shouted. “I’ll draw their fire.”
Dakar nodded and bolted for the next clump of trees. Martin was lying on his side in the middle of the field. He appeared unconscious or dead. Dakar discarded the possible outcome. The shot shouldn’t have ended his life.
Unlike Martin’s human guards, the Outcasts had advanced weapons, though most had been integrated into their bodies. They returned Jakkin’s fire, throwing balls of flame as well as pulses of energy. But they weren’t moving. They maintained a wall of protection, standing in a half circle, Martin behind them. No doubt they were generating the jamming field as well.
“They’re not going down.” Jakkin’s voice came across Dakar’s internal comlink. They were too far apart for verbal exchanges. “We’ve got to charge them.”
Dakar knew he was right, but it was suicide. There’d be no cover, no protection from their barrage.
“You get Martin. I’ll focus on the guards.” It was a reminder, and a not too subtle kick in the ass.
“Copy.” Dakar stepped out from behind the trees and ran like hells. He shot as he went, targeting one guard and then another. His armor absorbed shot after shot, but he felt each impact jar through his body. Jakkin yelped and Dakar glanced at his comrade. A concentrated pulse caught his upper arm, ripping away a section of his armor. The flesh beneath was charred and bleeding. Jakkin barely notice.
They were outnumbered three to one, but Dakar refused to retreat. Jakkin matched him step for step, viciously attacking alternating targets.
“I still can’t lock on to any of you. Can you get him away from his guards?” Zilor’s voice came across their implants, agitated and impatient.
“We’re trying!” Jakkin replied.
Martin awkwardly rolled to his knees then got his legs beneath him. Weaving like a drunkard, he managed to stand, but he looked dazed, unsure what to do.
“Zilor, put down directly behind him,” Dakkar ordered. “We’ll drive him toward you. Open the hatch, and be ready to grab him.”
“Copy that.”
Dakar rushed the nearest Outcast, rendering him unconscious with a close-range blast. He hit another Outcast on the side of his head with the butt of his rifle. Their shields were obviously drained. At least some of them were. The two focused on Jakkin were going strong. The man Dakar hit groaned, wobbled, but didn’t fall. So Dakar kicked him in the chest, sending him toppling to the turf.
A shimmering distortion told Dakar where Zilor had landed half a second before he opened the hatch. The shuttle was behind Martin, but the remaining Outcasts were focused on the attack.
Encouraged by the development, Dakar lunged for Martin, shooting one of the remaining outcasts as he passed. He grabbed Martin’s upper arm and jammed his rifle into his side.
“Move. Now!”
Dakar glanced at Jakkin as Martin looked around wildly, searching for a weapon or a means of escape. Jakkin kept the last three occupied, but Dakar had lost track of number six. Unable to dismiss the detail entirely, he shoved Martin forward. Martin jerked his arm out of Dakar’s grip, but moved closer to the ship.
Keeping Martin in the corner of his eye, Dakar searched for the missing guard. Damn it! Where had he gone?
Zilor pulled Martin onto the ship and shoved him toward the nearest seat. Dakar spun around, meaning to help finish off the remaining guards, when a massive pulse hit him squarely in the chest. Searing pain radiated through his entire body, dragging a terrified scream from deep inside him. Lights flashed before his eyes and static filled his ears. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only endure the consuming pain. Panic surged through the agony as his knees buckled. Who would protect his mate?
Then everything went black.
* * * * *
Fear tore through Alyssa as she paced the small waiting room aboard the Intrepid. Kaden and Sedrik sat side by side, both looking stoic and grim. Lexie sat on Kaden’s other side, holding his hand. But for once, the talkative reporter had nothing to say.
Alyssa ran her hand through her hair and moved to the doorway, looking out into the corridor. It was still empty. It had been hours since the Phantom returned and declared a medical emergency. The ship docked with the Intrepid and offloaded Dakar. Alyssa had only caught a glimpse of him then, but his entire chest and sections of his face were charred and bloody. Sedrik had been standing at her side at the time and his steading arm was the only thing that kept her on her feet.
A medic took them to the small waiting room down the hall from the main clinic and told them a doctor would update them as soon as Dakar’s condition had been determined. That was three hours ago and they had yet to hear anything.
“What’s taking so long?” she muttered to no one in particular.
“They’re still working on him,” Sedrik told her, his tone remarkably soft. “Come sit down. You’re just wearing yourself out.”
“Working on him how? I thought you had regenerative technology. Can’t they just put him in a tube and let it go to work?” She didn’t mean to sound so frantic, but her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since Zilor told Indigo to bring Alyssa to the Intrepid as fast as possible.
Sedrik stood and crossed the small room, facing her. He raised her chin until their gazes locked. “I won’t lie to you. You’re strong enough to hear the truth.”
Tears flooded her eyes, but she frantically blinked them back. “The
y’ve been updating you and Kaden. Haven’t they?” There were advantages to internal comlinks.
“They have,” he admitted, his stern expression unchanging. “Dakar’s condition is critical. He must be stabilized before he can begin regeneration and they’re not sure that’s possible.”
She shook her head. “He’s not going to die. I won’t allow it.”
Sedrik smiled, empathy warming his dark eyes. “I’ll pass that on to the surgical team.”
“Why didn’t his armor protect him?” She sounded calmer now, though her emotions were still turbulent. “He told me it was practically impenetrable.”
“The flexlar absorbed so many blasts that the alloy fractured,” Sedrik explained. “That’s very unusual. They’re both lucky to be alive.”
“Both?” Her heart gave a sickening lurch. “Was Jakkin hurt too?”
“To a much lesser extent, but his armor also failed.” He squeezed her shoulder then stepped back. “Jakkin is already in a regen unit. He’s well on his way to a full recovery.”
“And Dakar? When will we know if… If they can’t stabilize him, are there any other options?”
“They’ll get him stable enough for a regen unit,” Sedrik insisted. “They’re not just doctors, they’re soldiers. They’ll keep fighting until the battle is won.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t quite convinced.
“You should get out of here for a while,” Kaden suggested. “Walk off some of your excess energy.”
“I’ll go with her,” Lexie volunteered.
Alyssa caught Sedrik’s arm before he turned away. “Will you com me the second you know anything?”
“Of course.” He took her hand away from his arm and gave it a squeeze before he let her go.
Alyssa’s legs were still wobbly, but she followed Lexie from the waiting room. “Where did they take my father?”
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