What the hell. Morgan checked the sensors and her limbs turned to water. The Interceptor was gone, hit by a barrage from the lone fighter.
Fantastic. Her arm burned like fire. So did her head. Machine meld could be hellish, but to be dragged out like that was even worse. She hadn't known Makasa was able to do that. A check of Vulsaur's systems indicated the ship's shields were damaged, but the engines were fine. Thank goodness for that. Cruickshank may be gone but those strange things were still out there and despite appearances, they were fast.
"Supertech Selwood, Admiral Makasa has ordered that you take this ship to Maximus immediately. If you do not do so, I am instructed to destroy you."
The voice came from the fighter. It had to be piloted by a Supertech, one of the obedient ones they shipped out on the capital ships, otherwise the pilot couldn't have matched with Vulsaur and the Interceptor. Whatever. The pilot sounded young and firm. Do as you're told, or else.
"What about those things?"
"They show no characteristics of an adversary. I have no orders."
He'd hardly finished the sentence when his fighter exploded. Fuck! Electrical discharge? Some sort of energy? She didn't wait to find out, dodging behind the debris. Whatever it was, it had come from the dome, but there was no sign of weapons. Not any she could recognize, anyway. She had two more missiles. She fired them both. The thing could reform if it wanted to; she just wouldn't be there.
"Morgan?"
This time it was the other admiral, Ravindra, who spoke. He reached across from the navigator's chair, and touched her arm. "Are you all right?"
"Sure." The word slurred. His face blurred. Voices barked. "I'll try to get us out of here."
***
Ravindra hadn't seen Morgan looking so bad since that day she had to fight off Artemis, while she had a virus. Her skin was ashen, the lines of her face drawn and tight. He reached out and gripped her arm. "Morgan?"
No response. She stirred, so she was alive. When she was in the machine meld he could have believed she was dead. She needed treatment, though. Something hurt.
"Vulsaur, you will set course for Maximus now. If you do not comply you will be destroyed. Repeat, you will be destroyed."
The demand came from the battleship. Meanwhile, the second dome was approaching fast. The other one was struggling, trying to reform. If the second dome caught them, they were finished.
Ravindra picked up the microphone. "Message received and understood." He turned to Davaskar. "Do as instructed. Fast."
He unstrapped Morgan and lifted her in his arms, cradling her against him, while Davaskar took the captain's chair.
"If we stay we'll be arrested." Eastly's voice broke the silence, the words ending in something like a sob.
"If that thing hits us, we'll all be dead. Would you prefer that?" Ravindra snapped.
The man shut up, rigid with fear. Partridge put an arm around his friend's shoulders. Ravindra could almost bring himself to like the archaeologist. He certainly had more raw courage than his companion.
Vulsaur had accepted the heading from the battleship, and was moving toward its side. The alarms had stopped, but the bridge wasn't back to normal. Some of the gauges registered too high or too low. Of the ship's passengers, Tullamarran looked to be in pain, nursing a damaged arm, but everyone else appeared to be unscathed.
"That blue thing is catching us," Davaskar said. "Put as much power as possible into the rear shields."
The lights blinked around the dome's frilled edge like a strobe, circling around and around. Ravindra held his breath, his heart pounding. Would they make it?
The dome jolted, shuddering. Tension drained from Ravindra's shoulders. The battleship was firing. The dome slowed, re-gathered itself, and retreated.
Jirra sagged, her head bent forward. Davaskar swallowed. He wouldn't show much emotion, no Fleet captain would, but his relief was evident. So was everyone else's.
The battleship's side towered above them.
They called it a battleship, but Ravindra judged it as being smaller than his own Vidhvansaka. By at least a half. That said, its profile wasn't so very different. Dark, running lights along the top level, no discernible bridge structure, bays along the lower section. Vulsaur was heading for the one with the lights.
Was he afraid? Perhaps, a little. His biggest concern was for Morgan. But after that, he knew how he would react if the situation was reversed. A ship from outside his own space, with a design he couldn't recognize. The powers that be on board this vessel wouldn't believe the Coromandel story, they'd know by now it was false.
"What do we tell, them, Srimana?" Prasad asked, speaking in Manesai.
Ravindra settled Morgan, letting her head slide down a little. "You're the intelligence expert. What would you suggest?"
"Obviously, no information on where we come from. Can they interrogate the database? Check the route plans?"
"The nav computer is secure."
Prasad frowned, then the frown cleared. "At least they won't be able to find home." His lips quirked.
"Don't worry. Even if it is destroyed, she has the data in her head."
Prasad stared at him, challenging Ravindra with a look.
"Yes, if she chooses to betray us, she can." He held Prasad's gaze with his own. A matter of trust. What would she do, back here with her own people? That was the choice he made, wasn't it? If he was wrong, then these humans, if they wished, could follow the trail back to Manesai space, bringing their war machines with them, and their Supertechs. But he always trusted his own judgment. He'd been right about Morgan before, and he would be right again. He was sure.
"So…," Prasad said. "What do we tell them?"
What indeed? If he were the admiral on that battleship, he'd want her, and the shift drive. The easiest way to do that would be to kill her companions, remove any incentive for her to want to leave. It would be a terrible accident, of course. Even if she didn't believe the story. Would I have any reason to keep us alive? Maybe. Partridge and Eastly knew a little, if their story was sufficiently interesting, they might survive. Then again, all of them had been branded as anti-government terrorists. That may mean being handed over to the Ushas leadership. Not good. So. Stay alive, stay close to Morgan.
"The truth seems reasonable. You and I are the only ones who know the whole story. But we'll make ourselves a bit more interesting to them." Ravindra raised his voice. "Remove your contact lenses." He flicked out his own and slipped them into a pocket, blinking as he did so.
The others followed suit. Eastly and Partridge stared, jaws dropped. Jirra eyed Prasad. She wasn't going to argue but she didn't understand.
Prasad chuckled. "We're much more valuable as aliens."
"You'll be questioned," Ravindra said. "Don't bother to lie. Just make sure you give no indication of where we come from."
Jirra licked her lips. Tullamarran stayed silent, cradling his damaged arm.
Davaskar swung his chair around. "I heard what you said. Are you sure she won't tell them how to find us?"
"Yes." As sure as he could be. Ravindra held his cousin's gaze. Argue if you dare.
Davaskar looked away.
"Shut down your drives," the battleship ordered.
Davaskar complied, after only the slightest hesitation. The warship's gravity beam took over, drawing them forward, adjusting their path. Vulsaur slipped between black walls.
Chapter 28
Ravindra pressed his fingers to Morgan's neck. Her carotid artery throbbed, a bit shallow, but strong enough. The thought brought him a modicum of comfort, but he couldn't deny the nerves clenching in his stomach. How must she have felt when Curlew was brought on board Vidhvansaka? At least he knew who their captors were, what they looked like. It must have been a terrifying experience for her. He'd never really thought about that before, never discussed that time with her.
After the initial shock of seeing everyone's real eyes, Partridge had become elated, staring at each of them in turn, alt
hough he had the sense not to ask questions. Eastly had drawn in on himself, his arms wrapped around his body, his head tilted down.
The ship jolted. A clunk on the hull signaled a walkway being attached to the external hatch.
Partridge half stood. "Do we…?"
"We wait," Ravindra said.
Partridge sat down again.
Boots thumped in the corridor. Davaskar opened the bridge hatch before he was asked. A helmeted figure appeared, its short-barreled weapon raised. "Come out. Slowly. One at a time. Put your hands on your heads."
Ravindra rose to his feet, Morgan prone in his arms. "You'll excuse me if I do not comply."
He went first, her head tucked against his chest, one arm dangling. Down the ramp, onto the ship's deck, where a line of armed troops waited like an honor guard. It almost felt familiar, except the troops weren't at attention and their weapons were held ready.
A senior officer stood to one side, his arms behind his back. A big man, bloated like a balloon, his skin as black as space itself. This had to be Makasa, the man Morgan had told him about. Ravindra knew the Fleet hierarchy; Makasa was a senior admiral, one step below his own rank. But of course, he had no rank here.
Makasa strode forward, his gaze fixed on Morgan. "Is she—" He looked up. His eyes widened as he looked at Ravindra's face. But he recovered quickly. "Is she unwell?"
"She has spent some time in what she called machine meld. But I think she has suffered a physical injury to her arm. We have not been able to check."
A stretcher appeared beside them, attended by a man in fatigues.
Makasa pointed. "Put her there. We'll see she is taken care of."
Ravindra deposited her on the bed, gently and carefully, laying her arms at her sides and brushing the hair from her face. I love you, he whispered in his head. Whatever happens.
He straightened up and they took her away toward a lift foyer. "Two other people have injuries. My man Tullamarran, and the human, Eastly."
Makasa nodded, sending the rolls of fat at his neck quivering against that tight collar. "They'll be attended to. So you're not human."
"Does it look like it?"
His black eyes glittering like pebbles, Makasa pursed his lips. "We'll talk again." He took a step backward, waved a hand to the waiting troopers. "Take him away."
Ravindra chose to describe the two guards as an escort. One opened the cell door while the other pushed him inside. How he would have loved to turn around and break the impertinent pup's neck.
A standard cell in a standard cell block, the sort used for law-breaking Fleeters. Two-and-a-half-strides long, two-strides wide. Not that there was room for striding. A bunk only just long enough for his height filled most of the floor space and a toilet and hand basin took up the space opposite the door. They hadn't bothered to hide the sensors, one in each corner of the ceiling. Still, it was an improvement over the cell he'd been kept in on Krystor, before Morgan rescued him. How was she? Where was she? What was happening with her?
***
Morgan didn't open her eyes. Not yet. The room smelled of antiseptic. A hospital, then. The sick bay on Vulsaur? Had they escaped? No. They couldn't have. She opened her eyes. They felt odd. Oh. No contacts. She found a sensor so she could look down on herself, lying on a raised bed with a sheet covering her lower body. Yep, no contacts. And some bandaging on the arm. She flexed the muscles. They felt a bit new, and tender, but in a good way. Still healing.
A pretty young woman wearing medical fatigues, emblazoned with lieutenant's stripes, bustled in, carrying a tray. "You're awake. Sit up, I brought you food."
Morgan wriggled upright, trying to adjust the shapeless tent thing she wore. "Best medical fashion, I see."
The girl laughed. "One size fits all."
"Huh. I reckon this would fit Makasa."
No response to that. But then, you weren't supposed to make snide remarks about admirals.
The girl flicked way the cloth on the tray, revealing steaming kaff, warm bread and spread. Yum. Morgan's stomach rumbled. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.
"So what's my report card?" she asked, slathering the bread.
"We were told rest was the best thing for the… the Supertech thing." The nurse pointed at Morgan's arm. "Your arm was cut. The suit sealed over the puncture, but you were bleeding quite a lot."
Morgan swallowed. Cruickshank. What a bitch. Maybe that had been the idea. Let her bleed to death. But then again, the woman had come gunning for her, anyway. Yeah, probably thought I'd get away.
"What about the others?"
The nurse shook her head. "I don't know about any others."
When she'd gone, Morgan connected with the sensors in the corner, and went searching. Cell block, one for each. Feeling a bit like a peeping tom, she checked on each of them. Partridge and Eastly seemed the most nervous. Davaskar was doing some floor exercises, Jirra lay with her arm across her face, Prasad and Tullamarran just sat. Ravindra was not in his cell. Interrogation time. She searched, riding the data packets to find the room they'd taken him to. Guards stood outside. Inside, two Intel people played 'good cop, bad cop'. Wasting their time. They'd made him stand, his arms shackled behind his back, while they sat in chairs at a small table.
The door to her hospital room opened. Morgan kept a mind's eye on the interrogation, while Makasa came in, all dark blue uniform, glistening skin and glinting jewelry.
"Hi. Nice to see you. I guess," she said.
He stood beside the bed, gazing down at her. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"Did you expect I would?" She lifted up the plate with the remaining piece of bread. "Something to eat?"
Grimacing, he sat down in the chair, which creaked. "Where have you been, and why didn't you come to me yourself?"
"You know where I've been. They've told you."
He tutted. "Yes, but where? These people could be our enemies, Morgan."
"I pretty obviously don't think so. And I don't see why you think so. We haven't come here with an attack force. Those funny, blue ships, now. That's a different thing altogether."
He flicked a hand. "I have staff looking into them. Someone will be along to ask you what you know. Don't change the subject. What about your friends?"
"All they wanted to know was where they came from. Is that so bad?"
"And to collect intelligence?" He leaned forward. "The man is an admiral."
"Uh-huh. He out-ranks you, you know. One down from their grand admiral."
Makasa's fingers drummed on his knee, the golden rings flashing in the light. "He has no rank here."
"Besides, if they were wanting to collect intelligence with a view to a raid, they could have sent a group to infiltrate Torreno, not mess about on Ushas."
"With your help."
She would not squirm. She had done nothing wrong, and the Manesai were not a threat to the Coalition. They had enough trouble fighting amongst themselves. "Yes, well. I was designed to help, wasn't I?"
His brows lowered. "To help us."
"Oh, you mean like Ellen Cruickshank? She was designed to help you, too. Did you know she sabotaged me? She was on the Curlew shift drive project, just a minor role, but enough for her to make sure the drive would fail."
His lips sagged open. "What?"
"Yep. Nice girl, your Cruickshank."
"How do you know?"
"She told me. She set up a trap to get me alone, waited for me on Vulsaur. She told me she was going to kill me because you favored me. And she fancied my… um… boyfriend."
"How did she know you were back?"
"I'm not sure."
Fingering his lip Makasa sat back in the chair, which creaked again. "Hmm. I wonder if she followed you from Iniciara? She would have recognized the Curlew designators, and she was there at the same time as you."
"Ah. Makes sense. We were attacked by a fighter when we left. A state of the art warcraft, amazingly well flown. Ashkar actually suggested it might have b
een another Supertech. I poo-pooed the idea. Seems I was wrong." All the way from Iniciara. The woman was obsessed. Or at least, used to be.
Makasa grunted, swallowing a smile, as if she'd told him something that fitted. She leaned over, and put the tray on the floor. "What are you going to do with them?"
"Your friends? Take them back to Torreno."
"The two humans as well?"
"They belong here."
"They're not welcome here. Besides, we promised them."
He laughed, sending his stomach wobbling. "That's what your admiral said." He waved a finger. "I, on the other hand, have promised them nothing."
"Oh, come on, Makasa. It's no skin off your hide. Are we still in Ushas orbit?"
"We are. Your escape from their prison has caused outrage."
She made a rude noise. "I'll bet. They don't want that getting out. All the more argument for taking Eastly and Partridge with you. Everybody quietly vanishes, the fuss blows over, and so much for that. The priestesses at the Temple will be eternally grateful."
He crossed one leg over the other, oblivious to the chair's protests. "And if I do what you ask? What will I get in return?" A faint smile played around his lips.
A dark cloud of dread crept over her. "What do you want?"
"Tell me where your Manesai are. Give me a location in space."
Morgan disappeared into her other state, gazing down at Ravindra from the sensor in the interrogation room. He was calm, upright, as impassive as stone.
Bad cop, sitting behind the table, slammed his fist down. "Look, I'm getting tired of this. Do you want your crew to suffer? Want to say which one first? Maybe the nice-looking lady? I expect you don't give a damn about your man servant."
No answer. Ravindra did care about Tullamarran, she knew. But he wouldn't show it.
Back in the hospital room, Morgan skewered Makasa with a glare. "Don't you dare torture anybody. Do that, and you've lost me forever."
He smiled that cat smile she hated. "It's all part of the game, my dear."
"No it fucking isn't. You want anything from me? I want to talk with him. With Ravindra." She jabbed a finger at the sensor.
Morgan's Return Page 23