by Casey Lea
“So we get sneaky, or rather you do.”
Free felt a touch of hope. “You’ve got a plan.”
“Ye and I need you to carry it out.”
“While you…?”
Wing grinned fully, showing all his teeth. “I’ll be playing decoy. I can buy a kres ship, or ask Falkyn to lend me one. That’ll work. He’s fond of Darse.”
“He’ll give you half his fleet for such a search.”
“Which would fail,” Wing said bluntly. “We need to scour the whole Rim and Malik can shift her at will. No, we hold his attention, while you slip in and play spy. Get Darse out if you can, or call us in once you’ve found her.”
Free realized he was tapping his forefinger repeatedly in a kres nod. Yes, that could work.
“On it,” he promised Wing and swung away without further farewell.
Free needed to find a ride fast. It was impossible to guess what Malik might do to Dee now that he’d lost his war.
26
Prisoner Transfer
Jileea pressed her knife to the clone’s throat and listened for any sounds of alarm. Fake-Darsey was a murderous traitor, but the Alliance was strange about executions. Jileea couldn’t wait for endless trials and talking heads. Her need for vengeance was too demanding. Her need for justice. It made her hand shake. A line of red appeared across the clone’s neck and Jileea focused on that single thread, ignoring the familiar features above it.
The clone scratched at Jileea, digging its fingernails into her uniform in despair, but the fabric was thick and Jil felt nothing.
“For Darsey,” she whispered and her arm tensed.
“Stop.”
Jileea froze automatically. She looked round to see Spenser Chen shouldering his way through the fading door field. Curse him to all the Hells. She tensed to drive the knife into her prisoner, but Spense was quick and grabbed her arm before she could finish the ritual.
His grip was firm and Jileea’s amazement warred with fear. She couldn’t break free, which meant she only had moments to convince this ignorant pagan that the clone’s execution was vital.
“She’s an affront to all of us. A fake and a fraud made in direct opposition to Lady Darsey. This creature’s a curse magnet of the worst sort, but the ceremony’s done and the words spoken. We can kill her with a clear conscience. We need to act now, because the sooner we’re rid of her, the safer we’ll be.”
“She’s a prisoner in my custody and will be treated decently.”
Jileea tensed against Spense again, but he was surprisingly strong and his grip didn’t waver. She was trapped, with her enemy at knife tip, but no closer. It felt as if something was trying to claw its way out of Jileea’s chest and the truth rose along with the strange pain.
“Don’t you care what she did to Darsey? This creature’s boss is gone and her mission failed. She has no Luck and she’s cursed Darsey. This monstrosity killed her.”
“We don’t know that. The clone could be our only way to find Lady Darsey. The prisoner also needs to stand trial for what she’s done today.”
A sob escaped Jileea, but she hid it with a sneer. “Always following the warrior code, Chen? No matter the cost?”
“That’s what warriors do. I thought you knew that, Admiral.”
Jileea spat at him. She couldn’t help herself and this time a panicked groan escaped too. Had the pirates hurt Darsey before they killed her? Was Spenser right? Were they still hurting her? Every possibility made her chest ache.
It wasn’t helped when Spense shook her. “Remember your post, Admiral.”
The shaking moved Jileea just enough to catch the clone’s skin with the point of her blade. More red bloomed and trickled back down her knife. Fake-Darsey snarled and tried to pull away, which further unbalanced Spense.
Suddenly they were all wrestling and Jileea pushed forward with the scent of battle running down her arm. She broke Spenser’s grip and swayed aside when he tackled her. He kicked her in the back of the knee and she went down on one side, but could still thrust upward, into the prisoner's gut.
Jileea launched herself into the blow, diving under Spenser’s guard, but before her blade could bite she ran into a wall. At least it felt like that. She could see there was nothing between her and her target, but bonds as heavy as curses fell on both of her arms. She struggled wildly, but only hurt herself and had to hang limply from a harsh grip as it lifted her off the ground.
“I do love a family feud,” a familiar voice said in her ear and she swore.
Nikareon, curse it. She couldn’t beat him, but he was Mermaridian and would understand the need to purge the clone.
Nikareon shook her much more roughly than Spense had.
“Don’t waste your breath,” he advised. “There’ll be no cleansing through death today. I was enjoying the show, but it seemed past time that I offered an alternative. The creature will stand trial. At my place. I’m here to escort her to a cell on Blizzard.”
All resistance drained from Jileea. The frenzy ran from her limbs and the crazy from her thoughts. Killing the clone wouldn’t restore Darsey. Jileea could hide behind the need for a curse-purge with others, but her heart knew the truth. This was about the woman she adored. Jil was hurt and lost. This killer would continue to wear Darsey’s form, while betraying everything Jileea’s boss was.
A blade rang against the floor and clattered over Jileea’s boot. She looked down numbly. She’d dropped her knife. Nikareon gave her a shove to one side as he released her and she staggered away from the clone. She thumped into the wall, but at least it kept her on her feet. She didn’t want to keep going, but Darsey would expect her to.
“She’s not dead,” Darsey’s voice said and Jileea opened her eyes.
“So you say. Here, at our mercy with every need to barter and lie.”
Blue eyes regarded her with a contempt that didn’t suit them. “I’m not lying. I’m cooperating. You don’t need to give me to the Beserk.”
“I’ve no intention of giving you to Nikareon,” Spense said and the clone’s attention switched at once.
“So you wear the officer’s trousers in this relationship.”
“The Admiral is distraught,” Spense said with a glance at Jileea, “and I’m in charge of everything in this facility, which presently includes you.”
“A distraction you don’t need,” Nikareon pointed out. “My city Justice has the backing of Luck Traya and the Arck.”
“Guano,” Jileea snapped, surprised out of her silence. “You were a fugitive for years. Why would they entrust their prisoners to you?”
“They wouldn’t,” Nikareon said and Spenser gave him a quizzical look. “It’s not me they want. However, they could see the benefit of a far-off neutral planet with an impartial judge. I won’t be bought and my politics are non-existent. Blizzard is a harsh environment, unlikely to nurture protest groups agitating either for or against controversial prisoners. They want somewhere to throw their dirty laundry where it will be well rinsed with little inconvenience to them.”
He paused and gave the clone a wolfish smile. “This one looks inconvenient.”
Jileea studied Spense closely. He didn’t believe this, did he? Nikareon was a liar and long-time enemy of the Alliance. Spenser looked back at her with dark eyes that she couldn’t begin to read.
“Take her,” he said and raised a hand before Jileea could protest. “I’m busy. I don’t need this right now, but I do need a secure place for the prisoner.”
He gave Jileea a pointed look with the word ‘secure’ and her lips twisted. She knew exactly what Spenser meant. She couldn’t use her rank to override him on this, because she’d just tried to kill an unarmed prisoner. Curse all those stupid Alliance rules. She’d only lived by them for Darsey. Could the Boss still be alive?
“Why?” she asked the Fleet Senior. “Why give the clone to this Beserk? Why believe him?”
Spenser looked as inscrutable as ever. “Because I can read his mind.”
> Jileea was lost for words. The man stank of humanity and humans weren’t telepaths. Was he joking? At a time like this and after such a loss?
“I’ve got transport,” Nikareon said, interrupting her confused thoughts, “and I’m sure you’ve got red tape. Shall we?”
He gestured to the open cell door, but Spenser didn’t move. Instead he looked at Jileea again.
“After you, Admiral,” he said and she sighed, but went without further protest.
She led the way down a carbon corridor with a grey fullerene security-mesh embedded in its walls. The sound of her footsteps was flat, muted by the thick walls. What was she supposed to do now?
“Admiral,” Spenser said on her heels and she looked back. “The pirates who didn’t escape through the passage are making last stands, or surrendering, all round the Nexus system. We could do with your help. Especially since your ship survived.”
“Help? Yes.” Jileea considered it and obviously Darsey would approve. “It seems helping is all I have left.”
27
Escape
Darsey-plus leaned against the cell wall and tipped her head so she could see through the door field and down the corridor. A soldier stood at the far end, wearing the cream-and-green camouflage suit of troops stationed on Blossom. He stood unmoving and from his blank stare his thoughts were far away.
They wouldn’t be for long though. Soon there’d be more guards coming for her, led by the Beserk. She shuddered and pushed down a flash of fear. She didn’t recognize Nikareon, but she’d learned about his kind and knew he was little more than a beast. He’d try to force sex on her as soon as they lifted and she doubted she could stop him. Panic thrummed through her, louder and harder to control.
The security field hummed quietly, close to her cheek, and she slid further along the wall to rest her hand on the invisible door. It vibrated against her fingers and tears stung her eyes. She was a rat in a trap with a crazed killer coming to claim her.
She was scared - she could admit that – but she was angry too. All her life had been spent under a cruel man’s control, but at least she’d been able to play the puppet and avoid Malik’s close attention. There was no hiding from the Beserk. Even Darsey’s friends were useless. They didn’t care about Darsey-plus. No one did.
The hatch at the end of the corridor spun through its lock protocols and she gasped. It was too soon. She needed a plan. One of her own, not Malik’s. Fear and fury flooded her, making her tremble, until she punched the door. Or tried to. Her fist sailed straight through it.
The blow had so much momentum that it pulled her off balance and she staggered into the door field. She expected it to be turned off, perhaps so the Beserk could take her, because how else could her hand have passed through? But she felt it at once, like beetles on her skin. It fizzed against her entire body, even the parts under clothes and then she was falling forward, passing straight through the security screen.
She landed on all fours and looked up to see the guard gaping at her.
The solid door beside him swung back to reveal another guard. She looked straight at Darsey-plus and her brow furrowed.
“Only double-teams are supposed to open cells,” she told her companion, but he didn’t answer.
He sprinted down the dungeon corridor instead and his partner followed at his heels.
Darsey was numb with shock, but she knew a chance when she fell into its lap. She sank back on her heels and placed her hands behind her head. She activated her hidden com-fleks as soon as her wrists were out of sight and silently told them to smear cynodium under her nails. She felt their warmth as they obeyed. It was the strongest poison she carried and if she could pass the guards’ com fields the same way she’d got through the door…
The soldiers reached her and each grabbed an elbow. She straightened her arms and struck at their bare necks. She scratched frantically and felt her nails catch in their flesh. Their com fields were useless.
They fell back at once, the male swearing and the female clapping her hand to her throat. Neither response helped. Both dropped to their knees and their eyes glazed. Darsey-plus crouched beside the pair as froth flecked their lips and they finally fell. She looked down at them with something that was almost pity. They were only doing their jobs after all.
No. Their jobs involved handing her over to horror and she’d done what she had to. She shook her head to clear it and darted forward to claim the coms from each body. The stolen bands clicked into place, then tightened round each of her arms like old friends. Fresh strength filled her and she gripped the two downed guards, one by a wrist and the other an ankle. It was easy to drag them back into the cell. She dumped them there and moved back to the corridor. The hum of the returning door shield was deeply satisfying. She hoped her dead captors enjoyed the prison as much as she had.
Darsey-plus took a deep breath and was moving a second later. The power of battle-mode carried her forward so fast the walls were a blur. She hurdled the security hatch, which was still swinging open to find an empty lift shaft beyond.
She jumped in and her coms were pinged by a scan. They glowed in response and she tensed, but nothing swatted her out of the air. Instead she floated sedately upward. A sweet scent filled the lift shaft, but as she rose it was covered by the stink of smoke and dust.
By the time Darsey-plus reached ground level she had to bury her nose in her sleeve. She started to cough and diverted a small amount of com power to her personal shield. She wanted all the energy she had for blast function, because she knew she’d need it to face a Beserk, but the stench of the ruined city was toxic.
She stepped out onto a pitted road and started to run. It was more of a scramble with plenty of leaps, but she made good time. Fortunately, the only people she saw were dead. It seemed there was no one left to slow her down. She kept going until the buildings that were still standing became lower and more spread out.
A covered mall caught her attention and she stopped to study it. A quick scan showed no life signs, although the building was undamaged. It wouldn’t be a target for rescuers and offered plenty of safe hiding places.
Darsey-plus trotted toward the main doors, which were shut. The field closing them was strong enough to give an audible hum and it seemed the complex had an emergency shut-down mode. It was time to test her new super-power again.
She went to the front doors and reached out carefully. The field buzzed against her fingertips, pushing back so she couldn’t pass. She tried harder and sparks scattered from the contact. She pulled back with a curse and sucked her fingers. It seemed she required more incentive.
The whine of a small ship overhead gave her the surge of panic she needed. She could see it in the door field, a faint reflection swooping through the clouds to hover over the suburb. She pushed forward without thinking about it and fell through the door to skid along marble tiles on her knees. She fell to all fours and stayed there, panting, until the sound of the aircraft faded.
She kept on breathing hard, but it had nothing to do with exertion. Her borrowed coms could easily deal with that. No, she realized she was excited and terrified all at once. The thrill was beyond anything she’d ever felt and had her pulse pounding. She lowered her front until her forehead touched the cool floor. A minute resting there was enough to calm her body and let her think again.
What to do next?
She only had one option, though it gave her no pleasure. She needed to call Malik. She sighed, but sent a surge of power to her hidden tracking flecks. She wasn’t sure he’d come for her. It seemed he’d lost his war and was probably on the run, but she could still be useful to him. Wearing Darsey’s face should be enough to carry her out of this sorry mess and the pirate was smart enough to want to hide behind her.
Darsey-plus pushed herself up and moved to lounge against the front door. A few minutes later her skin tingled with a summons from Malik, so it seemed she was right. She leaned forward into the field holding her up and it parted more easily than b
efore. She had no idea why, or whether her donor could do the same thing. Was this a Darsey-original ability, or something special that came from the cloning process?
Darsey-plus didn’t know and really didn’t care. She slunk across the open lawn in front of the mall, turning on a heel to check the sky. A dart dropped out of the clouds over her head. She ducked and it shot past to land with a thump that buckled the path. She clenched her fists, but the hatch irised open to show a deformed silhouette.
Malik lurched from the cabin of the small spaceship and limped to join her. She managed a half-smile, but he scowled.
“You failed,” he said. “They got the drakking shield back up and trapped me like offal in a strainer. Didn’t you try, girl?”
“Of course I tried. And succeeded. I gave you a chance. If you’d come for me while I was still at the generator and helped me destroy it, you could have won.”
Malik slapped her. The back of his hand connected hard enough to snap her head sideways, despite com support. “If I say you didn’t try, then you didn’t. Useless thing that you are. Best you do more for me this time. The Nexus passage is closed and locked up good ‘n’ proper, so we’ll have to hide. Come on.”
Malik grabbed her arm and pulled her after him. Throughout her brief life she’d been trained to put Malik first, but unfortunately for the pirate, her genes didn’t seem to like being told what to do. If he’d been family that might have been different, but he’d always treated her like a tool. Not even a person, just a thing to be used.
“There’s room for both of us if we squish up close,” Malik grunted, pausing in the hatch to shake her by the arm. “It’ll be nice ‘n’ cozy too. You can find some new ways to earn your passage.”
Darsey reached through the Master’s com shield and her poisoned nails sunk into his neck. His eyes widened and for the first time he focused on her – truly saw her - then he convulsed, folding in half to fall at her feet. He looked astonished as he died, unable to comprehend how she could turn on him.