by C. J. Barry
Grey's rescue team and their weapons were loaded aboard the back of the slave shuttle Berman's unit had seized, crowding an already packed rear storage section. Plass and Berman took a position in the rear section as well, directly behind the small hatch door to the cockpit section. Although they were blind to the outside, a communications link to the cockpit would let them know what was happening.
"I assume your units had no problems, Major,” Plass began as the shuttle accelerated.
Berman snorted. “The plan worked perfectly. We flew in as slave freighters and secured our target landing bay in under ten minutes. All the other units are in position around the city and moving toward the tower now. We will be in position at the designated time."
"The plan has been altered,” Plass said coolly. His eyes met Berman's. “Lieutenant Fiske has betrayed us. He reports to Stoll."
Berman's nostrils flared with anger. “That bastard. He had us all fooled."
Plass continued. “And don't expect to see many d'Hont. Stoll is fully in charge. The majority of their positions have been replaced by regular military faithful to Tausek alone."
"Then where are the d'Hont?” Berman asked in disbelief.
"Parade duty,” Plass muttered.
A nasty snarl formed on Berman's face. “Just as well. At least we won't be killing our own. So now what?"
Plass looked at Decker. “Are you still getting Stone's signal?"
Decker checked his tracker unit. “Yes, they just arrived at the tower."
"First, we rescue Stone and Cidra.” Plass turned to Berman. “Then we kill Tausek and Fiske."
"That's too good for either of them,” Berman growled.
Plass nodded. “Agreed, but our choices are limited now. I won't let Tausek live even if we do start a civil war by killing him.” He glanced at the time. “We only have two hours before Major Holtz decimates the tower.” He looked back at Berman. “And us along with it."
"Checkpoint Beta coming up, sir,” the pilot interrupted over the communications link above their heads.
The d'Hont unit automatically came to attention while the vehicle rolled to a stop. No one moved or spoke in the rear section as they listened to the conversation between the pilot and the checkpoint guard. A few words were exchanged before a thud was audible over the comm.
A few moments later, the driver reported the status. “Checkpoint Beta is now closed for the day. Arriving at Checkpoint Alpha in three minutes."
As the shuttle surged forward, Berman addressed his team. “Checkpoint Alpha will be heavily guarded. As soon as the shuttle slows down, you are to exit via the rear hatch. Follow the shuttle closely, using it as cover. We will take the checkpoint by force. After that, we are on foot."
* * * *
Grey glanced around the wide concourse their shuttle had been sitting in for ten minutes. It surrounded a round, central structure containing several doors. He guessed the inner circular room to be the underground portion of Tausek's tower. He wondered which one of the doors would lead to the tower's single lift.
The curved wall behind them was lined completely with guards at regular intervals in typical Tausek style: overkill.
He was trying to come up with an escape plan when he caught Cidra watching him, her eyes clear and calm. Lord, he loved her. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold to her. What a fool he'd been. He may have blown his chance to tell her he loved her but he'd make sure she got out of here alive. With or without him. Now was their last chance to escape.
Slowly, she shook her head at him. He blinked at her. Did she know what he was thinking? She glanced at the contingency of guards, back at him and mouthed the word ‘no'.
Grey stared back. She didn't want to escape? When she gave him a small smile, he realized she must know something he didn't. His natural instinct to escape warred with her eyes pleaded silently at him: trust me.
Grey closed his eyes. Trust me. Once they were in the tower with Tausek, there would be no chance for escape. Trust me. Tausek would kill them. The mission would be lost. Trust me. Do nothing. Trust her. Could it be that simple? Did he love her that much?
He let out a long breath, relaxed, and put his life in her hands. When he opened his eyes, a single tear was trickling down her cheek and a sweet smile played on her lips.
Finally, Fiske approached the shuttle and assisted Cidra out. Grey was handled roughly by a guard on his side. They were led briskly to one of the doors in the tower. Grey bared his teeth when he spotted Stoll watching Cidra with blatant interest. Grey shuddered to think what would have happened to her by now if he hadn't agreed to accompany her.
The door to the lift opened before them. Stoll ordered all his men but Fiske to remain in the concourse circling the tower. Then he took Cidra's arm and led her into the lift with Fiske and Grey following. Stoll's hand was on Cidra's arm, stroking it lightly. Her expression remained stoic but Grey could see the effort it took. He, on the other hand, was itching to kill someone and made no effort to hide it. Stoll eyed him knowingly and smirked.
The tower lift opened less than a minute later on the top level of the tower. When the door opened, they walked around the corridor that circled the lift. Additional hallways veered off the circular corridor like spokes. They took one such hallway and halted in front of an intricately decorated door.
Stoll turned to Fiske. “I will deliver them to Tausek myself."
The Lieutenant hesitated slightly. “Of course, sir. I will stand guard."
* * * *
The attack on Checkpoint Alpha succeeded with a barrage of gunfire and a pile of dead bodies.
The sealed tower entrance now loomed before them, unguarded but impenetrable. Plass and Berman were joined by Rourke and Decker outside the entrance near the security panel.
"Now what?” Rourke asked.
Berman frowned at him. “Our security clearances aren't registering. Entrance can only be granted from the inside without proper clearance. We'll have to blast the door."
Plass shook his head. “It won't work.” He turned to Decker and Rourke to explain. “The base of the tower is surrounded by a full circular concourse. About fifty guards are on duty at all times. Any one of them can activate an alarm that will drop shield doors across all the entrances. Nothing can penetrate those. We won't get two meters inside before we are cut off and killed. We'll have to call our ground teams to attack the above ground entrances and hope the distraction draws some of the guards away."
Rourke watched a Servo-unit buzz happily by. “I don't think that will be necessary,” he muttered. He snatched up with the little unit just before it dove into a tiny hatchway. The men looked at him in surprise.
He lifted the cleaning unit up to them. “Now where do you think this little guy is heading?"
Plass eyed him carefully. “Probably into the tower concourse. They cover all parts of the underground."
Rourke smiled. “That's what I thought. How tightly sealed is that concourse?"
"Completely,” Plass answered as he watched Rourke peel a concussion charge off his weapons belt and attach it to the Servo-unit. Understanding dawning, he asked, “You have a remote. Right?"
Rourke looked up from his task indignantly. “Of course. This concourse is wide open, three-hundred sixty degrees around. Right?"
A smile tugged at Plass’ lips. “Of course."
Berman's eyes widened. “That concussion charge is going to ricochet all around the concourse.” He shook his head in disbelief and understanding. “You're going to knock out fifty men with one air burst and leave the room untouched."
"I think we need to reevaluate our security, Major Berman,” Plass summarized.
Rourke placed the little unit back on the floor. It continued on its merry way as if nothing had hindered its duty, disappearing immediately into the hatchway.
"Get your teams ready to blast the entrance doors, Berman,” Rourke called out as he headed for cover.
Everyone cleared the entrance doors. Rourke pre
ssed the detonation device. A muffled sound emanated from the other side of the entrance.
"Fire!” Berman yelled. Laser cannons tore gaping holes through the center of the door. Immediately, Berman's team rushed through the jagged opening, guns firing.
Rourke and Decker followed Berman. The concourse was filled with smoke and smelled of melted metal, but otherwise still and silent. Unconscious bodies littered the floors with the Servo-unit wandering innocently among them.
"I want them all in restraints before they recover,” Berman ordered.
Plass walked directly to the tower lift. It was still operational and the door opened at his command. The alarm hadn't been sounded, but he remained cautious. He would feel better when all the guards in the concourse were accounted for.
He turned to speak to Berman.
Suddenly, the silence was replaced by the tower alarm. The shield doors immediately dropped, sealing them in the concourse. Plass spun around in time to see the lift doors close on a stunned Barrios. As the lift doors sealed shut, Plass swore. The old man must have walked right into the lift and set off the alarm. So much for the element of surprise and the use of the lift. They would be using the access shafts—all twenty floors of them.
* * * *
Cidra swallowed hard just as Stoll was about to activate the door to Tausek's chambers. His comm unit beeped.
"What's the problem?” Stoll barked to his chief security officer.
A deep voice replied, “Unknown at this time, sir. An unauthorized user has accessed the lift. It sealed and deactivated automatically. We have no other security issues at the moment. Perhaps it is a malfunction."
Stoll pinned Grey with a savage glare. “Somehow I doubt that. I will be in my office. Report there as soon as you isolate the problem."
He turned to Fiske. “Hand them over to Tausek. Then remain on guard outside the door. I won't take any chances.” He warned the young Lieutenant. “There is no need for Tausek to be aware of the security issue. I will deal with it myself."
Fiske answered, “I understand."
The moment Stoll rounded the corner out of sight, Fiske stepped behind Cidra. He released the restraint mechanism, but didn't remove them. She looked at him as if afraid to believe. “What are you doing?"
He smiled slightly. “Giving you a fighting chance. The restraints are released. One good tug will free them completely."
She gazed at his face in amazement. It appeared to soften and grow younger before her very eyes. “The comm unit...” she began.
"Is in your boot,” he finished, looking up at her through long lashes. “Don't do any dancing or the transmission will suffer."
Grey asked, “Whose side are you on, Fiske?"
Fiske turned to face him. “I am a d'Hont guardian. My loyalty begins and ends with them. Not Stoll, not Tausek, not even Plass. I am part of a secret order dedicated to the preservation of the d'Hont."
He looked at Cidra, his voice sympathetic. “We saw what happened to the Kin-sha—destroyed by one incident. My order was formed shortly after that for the sole purpose of preventing a similar incident from decimating us. Our preservation effort extends beyond the political realm, beyond the power of any ruler. Even Stoll is unaware of it. I've been watching him for some time, earning his trust, and keeping close. The time has come to eliminate him as a threat to us."
As he spoke, Fiske stepped behind Grey and released his restraints. In one swift move, Grey pinned Fiske to the wall behind him, crushing his throat with his hand.
Grey hissed. “Give me one good reason why I should believe anything you say."
Cidra answered, “We need him to establish the communications link, Grey. We have no choice. We have to trust him."
He turned to look at her and she saw the shadows in his eyes lift. He released Fiske and stepped back.
Fiske massaged his throat and looked at her. “Thank you. I was having some difficulty vocalizing.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Grey. “You're faster than you look."
Grey's mouth kicked up. “You should see her."
Fiske gave Cidra a nod. “It is time to face Tausek. Are you ready?"
"I'm ready."
"I'm not.” Grey pulled her into his arms, restraints and all. He kissed her hard, desperation turning to passion to tenderness. Cidra leaned into him, welcoming the heat and harbor he offered. A soft moan slipped through her throat. He did this so well. And she needed him so much.
Grey broke off the kiss and spoke in her ear. “Cidra, I love you."
She smiled. She had known he loved her when he trusted her in the shuttle. “It's about time. I love you, too."
Grey smiled back. “I'm a slow learner. Lucky for you, I don't give up easily."
Fiske fixed Grey's restraints. They turned to face the door to Tausek's chambers.
Cidra eyes met Grey's for a long moment in a silent declaration of a deathless bond. Fiske activated the door, and they stepped into Tausek's chambers together.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rourke felt the heat from another laser blast zing past his head and yelled, “You have got to be kidding. There must be another way to the top."
Behind him Berman bellowed, “Shut up and shoot or get out of the way."
Rourke gritted his teeth and concentrated on the gun battle. They were advancing up the tower at a crawl. This was the third such battle since the lift had been sealed and they had been forced to scale the tower level by level. Each battle grew hotter as more guards from the upper levels descended to protect their ground.
Laser blasts ricocheted off the corridor walls and floors at dizzying speed. The haze of burned materials and flesh hung in the air. Berman had already lost several men and they still had a long way to go yet.
As usual, when the last tower guard went down, they all scrambled to reach the next access shaft.
Decker ran up the corridor behind Rourke. “This is taking forever. There's no way they will still be alive by the time we reach the top. Plass tells me we have another seventeen levels to go."
Berman turned on them in fury and yelled, “You have a better idea? Let's hear it."
At the entrance of the next access shaft, Rourke stopped and relieved a micropad from one of Berman's team. He studied the floor plan, level by level. He gazed up and down the hall and finally straight up at the ceiling.
Rourke turned and stood toe to toe with Berman. “Do you have a laser cannon with you?"
Berman's eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, we do. Why?"
"How long are your rappelling cables?"
Stunned, Berman answered, “Long enough to scale the outside of this tower if there was any way to get back into it."
Rourke nodded and said, “Bring the cannon here. I want the longest, heaviest cable you've got and your best marksmen."
* * * *
Blood. It was the first word that came to Cidra's mind. Crimson red flooded Tausek's chambers and its sparse contents. Cidra scanned the big room quickly. There was one other door besides the one they had entered through. The most spectacular and savage red sunset she'd ever seen burst through a long, unbroken window.
They halted behind the silhouette of a man, his back to them as if commanding the sun, feeding off its power. The sight robbed her of coherent thought. Instincts, swift and powerful, subverted her control.
When he turned slowly to face them, her breath froze in her lungs at the black, menacing figure before her. His face was pure white, sinister and angular. His eyes were even more disturbing, black, dark and inhuman. Bathed in red, he looked like a demonic sentinel standing at the very gates of a fiery abyss. Cidra fought the urge to turn and run.
Tausek nodded once to Fiske, who saluted and left quickly.
A terrifying silence followed. Fine clicking drew her eyes down to the two furred creatures at Tausek's feet. Corvits. Plass hadn't mention corvits. She had heard of them—beastly creatures capable of ripping a man to pieces in minutes. Somewhere in the insanity of the moment, she wondere
d if two of them could do it twice as fast.
Fear clawed at her throat, threatening to suffocate her. She closed her eyes tightly, refusing to let it undermine her task. From within her rage grew, slowly at first, fed by the anger at her own fear. Thoughts shifted from herself to her family, Syrus, and her father. Then the voices arose—pleas and cries for justice and vengeance. The silent faith of a million souls killed by Tausek drove her on. The strength grew and built, crowding out the fear and anger, replacing them with determination, honor and reverence.
Cidra opened her eyes and faced her demon.
"Cidra Faulkner,” Tausek began. “I've been waiting for you."
* * * *
Seated at Plass’ desk, Stoll glanced up at Fiske in surprise and irritation. “I told you to stand guard outside Tausek's chambers."
Fiske stood motionless just inside the doorway and said nothing.
Stoll's face reddened. He pushed himself to a standing position. “Did you hear me?"
"I heard you. The d'Hont no longer take orders from you.” Fiske raised his laser rifle to Stoll's chest.
The Commander's eyes narrowed with hate and anger and a low growl rumbled through him. He lunged around his desk at Fiske. The laser blast caught Stoll squarely in the chest. His face contorted in pain as he collapsed on the floor.
Fiske stepped over the body and went to work at the communications center.
* * * *
"Ready?” Rourke asked.
Berman nodded and hefted the laser cannon over his shoulder into an awkward position, lining the sights up at the ceiling over his head. An instant later, the machine bore a perfect two-meter hole through the ceiling, followed by the ceiling of the level above, and the next.
"Nice and steady. If you hit anything structural outside the corridors, we're going to be digging out from under this building for a long time,” Rourke muttered over Berman's shoulder. “And remember only fifteen levels. We don't want to spook Tausek."