Dark Deeds (Class 5 Series Book 2)

by Michelle Diener

  Gerwa snarled at him, lifting his upper lip to show his impressive incisors.

  “Tell.” Vek obviously meant to shoot the Krik if he didn't get an answer. Fee watched it play out from behind lowered lids.

  She was sticking to the dumb orange act. No way was she contributing anything to this conversation.

  If Gerwa wanted to say how they met, that was fine by her, and if he'd prefer to be shot, that suited her just as well.

  Vek let off a shot, and it hit Gerwa in the chest.

  The Krik went down, but it must have been on the lowest setting, because he raised himself up on his elbows almost as soon as he hit the floor, and hissed at Vek again.

  With a screech of frustration, Vek stepped closer, shockgun still raised. He'd sent most of the soldiers back to their duties, but the two who'd carried Hal down remained and they took up positions on either side of him.

  They didn't even look her way. She'd been dismissed as a threat or a source of information.

  She guessed that if Hal had been conscious, they'd have paid more attention to her and him, but they'd decided that Gerwa was the best chance of working out what was going on for now.

  They had to be deeply worried.

  Two different groups had made it to their secret facility in one day. The grahudi cage was empty, so Fee guessed it was still on the loose, plus they would be panicking at the lack of contact from Captain Flato and the Class 5. These guys had their hands full.

  She knew from when she'd been here earlier that there was a lens, and now she was in Imogen's cage she saw it was pointed directly at her, attached to a metal beam that ran across the ceiling.

  When she broke them out with her trusty encryptor, she'd need Hal to be up to running with her, because they'd have to move fast. Their escape would be seen.

  She started combing Hal's hair back from his forehead. The Grih seemed to be obsessed with singing, so maybe singing would help him, bring him out of the dark.

  She'd developed quite a repertoire on the Fasbe, first in her cell, and later while she worked in the launch bay. She had some favorites, and she chose the smooth, gentle rhythm of Get Here, tuning out the shouting match between Gerwa and Vek, her gaze fixed on Hal's face, but a quick flash of movement out of the corner of her eye made her look up sharply.

  The grahudi stared at her from the top of its old cage.

  Her voice faltered, and then trailed off. It would certainly be handy if the grahudi attacked the Tecran, but then it would still be out there when she wanted to escape.

  It jumped, the only sound the faint disturbance of air as it flew thirty feet and landed on the back of one of the soldiers standing beside Vek.

  It used him as a spring board to leap on top of the cage containing the Krik and then turned to face Vek, mouth open, teeth bared.

  The soldier made a strange sound and then fell.

  Fee eased Hal's head off her lap and stood. Even though she was locked up, she felt too vulnerable on the floor.

  She peered through the bars, and saw the soldier's throat had been slit from ear to ear.

  After a moment of panic, Vek and the other soldier shot at the grahudi, and it screamed at them, the first time she'd ever heard it make more than a quiet grunt.

  It filled the air like a klaxon, and then the sound cut off as it curled in on itself. It had taken another hit, but before Vek could get off another shot, it sailed back over his head, hit Fee's cage and then landed on the ground and ran for the stairwell.

  The Tecran ran after it, Vek tapping his ear and shouting instructions.

  Their footsteps died away, and absolute silence reigned for a long beat.

  None of the animals or birds left in the cages moved or made a sound.

  Bambi in the headlights.

  Just like her.

  “What was that?” Gerwa called softly, and she could hear the fear and awe in his voice.

  “A grahudi from Fitali territory.”

  “A grahudi,” one of Gerwa's team said, voice hushed. “They are legend.”

  Fee shivered, and sat back down on the ground, arranged Hal's head in her lap again.

  “So, the Grih did rescue you, in the end,” Gerwa said, and she lifted her head to see he was looking at the cozy arrangement with a speculative gaze.

  She looked up at the lens, looked back at him, and his mouth clamped shut.

  They'd have no secrets if they continued talking, because if the Tecran hadn't been watching this area earlier when she and Hal had come through, they were certainly watching and listening now.

  She was glad about it.

  She didn't have anything to say to Gerwa, and she was getting more and more worried about Hal.

  He was so limp, the only sign of life was the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

  “Wake up.” She bent down and kissed his forehead. “Please wake up.”

  32

  Long ago, the ancient Grih who'd come close to death spoke of hearing beautiful singing while they hovered in what they called the InBetween. It was part of their history, and every Grih learned the strange and mystical stories their ancestors told each other long ago, more with a sense of amusement and indulgence than anything else.

  But Hal could hear it.

  It was in a strange language, more melodic and smooth than Grihan or any of the other languages of the UC.

  The sweet sound was interrupted by a loud, discordant cry followed by a loud exclamation.

  The singing stopped, and then started again, this time infused with laughter. The song was different, more upbeat, and every now and then, the singer whistled a tune.

  Hal opened his eyes.

  He could see the underside of Fiona's chin, and the dark curtain of her hair. She was looking off to the side as she sang.

  She said something in her language, and when there was another discordant reply, she laughed.

  “What . . .” his voice was a faint croak, but as he spoke, she swept back her hair, looked down at him.

  The expression on her face was one of relief and overwhelming delight.

  “You're awake.” Tears welled in her eyes and clung to her lashes, and a feeling lanced through him that was painful in its intensity, squeezing his lungs and closing up his throat.

  He fought to sit up.

  She'd had his head in her lap, he realized, and they were . . . he tried to focus. Back in the storage room. In Imogen Peter's cage.

  He swallowed and then coughed, his throat burning it was so dry. “Water?” he asked on a croak, and she shook her head. “Nothing except what's been left in that bucket, and I just don't know how long it's been there. I'm too scared it's bad.”

  He nodded, then remembered one of the pockets of his uniform came with a rehydration pack.

  It was still there, and he pulled it out, ripped it open and offered it to Fiona first.

  She shook her head. “I'm fine. You're the one who got zapped.”

  He sucked down half and offered it to her again, his body responding almost instantly to the liquid.

  She trailed her fingers down his cheek in a gentle caress. “Have it all. I'm so happy to see you upright. And you're going to need all your strength.”

  She came up on her knees, slid her arms around him, and at that moment he heard the murmur of men's voice, the shifting of bodies.

  He turned his head, saw a small band of Krik staring at them.

  “The lens is pointed right at us,” she whispered in his ear. The warmth of her, the touch of her lips to his skin, the sweet scent of her, made him tighten his grip. “I can get us out of here, but only if you're up to running, because they'll know the moment we bolt.”

  He gave a slow nod, although he wondered how she could get them out. Perhaps Eazi had a way. He kept his gaze on the Krik. “Are these your friends from the Fasbe?”

  “Yes. We aren't talking to each other, because they don't want the lens to pick up our conversation, but that's Gerwa and his happy crew.” She rested her head on h
is shoulder for a moment and he dropped his cheek on top of it. Rubbed against the incredibly smooth, silky texture of her hair, so different to his own.

  “Can you stand?”

  He gave another nod, although he wasn't sure.

  He shuffled back from her, put out a hand to grip a bar and pulled himself up.

  His knees gave way, but he didn't go down, and after blowing out a breath, he managed to push himself up again.

  He was looking straight at the Krik, and they were looking right back at him. Their eyes sharp and avaricious, their demeanor watchful and arrogant.

  They pushed every button he had.

  He realized his hands were so tight on the bars, his knuckles were white.

  “You seem not to like us, Grih.” The Krik who spoke to him rested a cocked hip on the bars of the cage, a sneer on his face.

  “As you——”

  Fiona grabbed his shirt and gave him a little yank to remind him about the lens.

  He swallowed his rage, remembered he needed to see if he could move fast enough to escape. He walked to the end of the cage and had to stop, his muscles trembling.

  Fiona watched him with worried eyes from the center of the space.

  From behind her, the strange, beautiful bird from her planet whistled a jaunty tune. Fiona turned and sang to it, and the sheer perfection of it, so casually done, astonished him.

  The bird whistled again, and he realized the creature was participating in the song, that they were making music together.

  “What is that?” he asked when they stopped.

  The Krik were watching as well, and Hal didn't like their intense interest.

  “Imogen must have taught him. I can imagine they had lots of hours to fill down here. It's an extremely funny song, but tragic, too, because the . . . visual comms it was written for is a kind of satire and at the end, people who are slowly dying in horrific circumstances sing this happy tune about always looking on the bright side of life.” She went quiet. “I suppose Imogen wasn't far off from being in their shoes, and singing this song, teaching the macaw to do the whistling part with her, was both ironic and funny enough to give her hope.”

  A funny, tragic song. He tried to get his mind around the concept of it, let alone singing as a method of subtle defiance.

  To the Grih, singing was a serious business. Solemn and full of pomp.

  “When you asked us to take you with us, I didn't understand the comforts you were prepared to offer,” one of the Krik called to Fiona from their cage. “Or the talents you have.”

  “Comforts?” Fiona looked confused, and the Krik pointed his finger at Hal, then moved it across to her. “The gentle singing, the soft kisses.” He smacked his lips lasciviously.

  She snorted. “I don't go down that road with people who hit me over the head. Or raise their hand to me in any way. Or lie.” She put a hand on her hip, and Hal could hear the underlying sarcasm in her voice. “Sorry you didn't help me now, Gerwa? You saying there actually was some room for me in that emergency pod?”

  Her tone was challenging, derisive, and everything Hal knew about the Krik said they would react with abuse or threats, but the big Krik she'd called Gerwa gave a low, amused laugh.

  “Maybe there was. That was my loss.”

  She turned her back on him, but Hal stared him down, and for the first time, Gerwa's smug expression dropped away, and he took a half-step back.

  “You okay?” Fiona asked with a frown.

  He gave a quick nod and started pacing the cage, enjoying the sensation of strength that slowly filtered back into his limbs. He lifted a hand to his neck where his skin was still tingling and numb and was grateful the camouflage hood over his head and neck had had some protective features.

  He'd been so focused on the passageway and the stairs, on the threat coming toward them. But there must have been a hidden lens near the door, someone must have seen them out there, camouflage or not, because the soldier who shot him had been ready to fire the moment the doors opened wide enough. He'd barely felt the slight change in temperature as cold air spilled from the room behind him before he went down.

  “What happened after I got shot?”

  Fiona shook her head. “Let's not go there now. The Krik took some of the pressure off us, at least. They didn't know what to do with so many intruders all at once.”

  Hal narrowed his gaze at her, but he wasn't going to insist she tell him how they'd disarmed her with the Krik and the Tecran listening in.

  She suddenly blinked, lifted her head a fraction, and then started to sing another song.

  He had the strong sense she was listening to someone, and then he realized she was talking to Eazi, and disguising it as a song in her own language.

  He frowned, and lifted a hand to his ear, to find his earpiece had been taken. Fiona's, it seemed, had not.

  Fiona came toward him, flicking her fingers in a tiny movement to indicate he move back. He complied until they were in the corner of the cage furthest from the lens, and in a deep fall of shadow.

  “Eazi is in the lens feed at last,” she murmured as she stepped into his arms, her breath warming against his neck. “So we'll need to sit down in plain sight and not move for a few minutes so he can create a loop to fool them.”

  “Can he see what was in that room we were trying to break into?” Hal knew for sure whatever was there was something Battle Center would be interested in.

  “I saw it myself before they dragged us down here. It's a surveillance room. Eazi says from what he saw from the lens on my shirt, they're tracking the traffic in the Balco system, and listening in to the comms on the planet.”

  “And the self-destruct protocol?”

  The Krik were making a noise now, a sort of high-pitched chant, and Hal looked over at them. They were all riveted by the sight of Fiona in his arms.

  He turned, taking her with him, so she was in the corner, and his back was all the Krik could see.

  The chant got louder, even more wild.

  “They are so scary,” she said, and something in the pragmatic, serious tone she used forced a laugh out of him.

  “Easy for you to laugh.” Her face was stern, but her eyes danced. “They don't have kinky ideas about you.”

  “No. They just want me dead,” he agreed.

  She winced, and half-lifted a hand to her ear before she dropped it. No sense letting the Tecran know she had an earpiece. “All right,” she said in exasperation. “Eazi says from what he can find in the system, they set the self-destruct thing up in a hurry, and the only way to stop it is to find the actual device that would be activated. He doesn't know where it is, and we can hardly stumble around looking for it. We certainly can't go back to that room without weapons or camouflage, there are at least five Tecran in there at all times.”

  “So we get out of here.” Hal would have made that call anyway. Fiona wasn't safe here. Never had been, but before, with their weapons and camouflage, they'd had a chance. Now, with nothing, any foray back into the facility would have little chance of success.

  “Yes. At least for now. So let's go sit in the light and look bored for five minutes or so, and Eazi can do his thing.” She straightened, waiting for him to move out of her way.

  The Krik had fallen quiet, but Hal could still feel their gaze. He wanted to shield Fiona from them, because somehow her behavior toward him had incited something in them.

  His thoughts must have been clear because she sighed. “No choice. It doesn't matter.”

  “It does matter.” He drew her to him. “But you're right, there is no choice.”

  He pulled back and they walked to the well-lit part of the cage and sat, leaning against the wall of bars, not touching or speaking.

  The Krik went silent, too, as if confused by their behavior.

  Hal didn't know how much of the Krik's cage the lens caught, but it suited him and Fiona if they were quiet. It would make the loop Eazi was creating more realistic.

  After what felt l
ike much longer than five minutes, Fiona lifted her head.

  “Eazi says we're good,” she said as she pulled herself to her feet.

  He beat her to it. “How's he getting us out?”

  She pursed her lips. “He's not. He isn't in the lock system yet, although he says he's getting there.”

  “Then how——” he trailed off as she slid a hand into her top and pulled out a slim device.

  She grinned at him. “You didn't see it because you were pretty out of things that first time you were hit, but this baby got us out of the gallery earlier.”

  “What is it?”

  She turned and looked over at the Krik, who were now absolutely still. “Mine,” she said, and the smile she sent Gerwa was sharp enough to cut.

  33

  Sometimes, revenge was sweet.

  Fee put her hand through the bars by the keypad to the cage and pushed it open. She walked over to the macaw's cage, opened that, too.

  It looked at her, and shuffled to the back of the cage.

  “You letting us out?” Gerwa asked her.

  She raised a brow as she looked over at him. “What do you think?”

  He bared his teeth. “That is my encryptor.”

  She ignored him, held out her arm to the macaw.

  It studied her back, not moving at all.

  “We have to go.” Hal stood right behind her.

  “I know, but we have to take the macaw with us. I just can't leave it.”

  He made a sound of frustration, stepped around her and lunged, grabbing the bird in his big hands and pulling it out. It was obviously struggling, but he was holding it firmly enough, gently enough, that it wasn't hurting itself.

  “Right, now let's go.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  “You wouldn't have it if not for me,” Gerwa called.

  “Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to trust you not to try and attack both of us the moment I open your door?” Fee slid it back into her bra.

  Hal was standing beside her, and he took a step toward the Krik's cage.

  “Don't worry. I'll be back for you,” he said to them. “You won't be in here for too long.” His voice was low, vibrating with rage.