Solar Heat

by Susan Kearney

  “They’ve dropped off the radar,” Azsla confirmed.

  Now all he had to do was outwit the invading Firsts, save his daughter, escape from Zor, and stop a killer asteroid.

  One thing at a time.

  18

  AZSLA MIGHT NOT have insisted on coming along if she’d known he intended to drive like a maniac. Derrek didn’t appear to notice the vibrations rocking up through the seat hard enough to rattle her teeth. In her opinion they were lucky the hovercraft didn’t shake apart, but he seemed unfazed by the fast turns, the hard angles, the tight corners that had her gripping the dash to avoid sliding out of her seat.

  Despite her fear of crashing into a building or tree, she divided her attention between the radar, the flames, and the hovercraft heading their way. Most of the radar pings were from vehicles either too slow or too small to provide anything more than transportation to fleeing civilians. But some of the faster ships sported light armor and cannon blasters. She kept a close eye on one particular formation that never veered from a path straight at them.

  “How much farther?” she shouted at Derrek, to be heard over the noise of the rushing air and the screaming engines.

  “I’d like to get closer.”

  Right now they were flying over dense forest, the few clearings that might have been landing sites passing by blurrily. If he flew for much longer, they’d hit housing structures, grass parks, and pavement, losing the natural cover of the trees that would hide their landing. “We should set down now. If you wait any longer we’ll lose our shot at taking cover on the ground.”

  “I see the perfect landing spot. Hang on tight. We’re ditching hard.”

  He didn’t exaggerate. Hovercrafts usually glided, but their owners didn’t cut off the engines before the craft stopped moving. Oh . . . God. What was he thinking?

  Her stomach swooped. And they fell.

  They landed in a bone-jarring crunch on what she assumed was a grassy plain, but then water sprayed out from under them. He’d found some kind of shallow lake, and the fluid cushioned them, or they might not have remained conscious. As it was, every muscle in her body throbbed, and she was certain she’d have an assortment of bruises. Her head ached from a bang. Wiping a trickle of blood away from her eye, she applied pressure to plug the wound and stop the bleeding.

  Derrek had a jagged cut on one arm and a raw patch of skin on the other, where he’d skinned it on the door. After popping the canopy, he jumped overboard, sloshing up to his thighs in lake water clogged with brown and greenish vines.

  “Stay there,” he ordered, his tone quiet. “I’ll beach the hovercraft in those trees.”

  “Why didn’t you just drive onto the bank?” she asked, grumpy that he’d shut down the engine before they’d landed for no damn reason that she could discern.

  “Couldn’t. The engine died.”

  Quark. She swallowed down the swear word. “If that had happened when we’d been higher in the air, we’d be dead.” Under the circumstances, the only reason they were still alive was due to his piloting skills.

  “If we’d been higher, we could have glided down,” he disagreed, not taking credit for saving them. “The problem was we were halfway between flight and landing, and it’s very odd, but we don’t have time to investigate. You okay?” he asked.

  “What do you mean it’s odd?” She jumped out of the craft and helped push it beneath the trees.

  “The failure rate isn’t high on any hovercraft. And I pay top-notch mechanics good credit to keep my machines in the best shape.” He frowned, looked at her with suspicion. “Sabotage is always a possibility.”

  “I was with you the entire time.”

  “I was driving.”

  And therefore not paying attention to her. “Don’t you dare accuse me.” She scowled back at him, already irritated that whenever something went wrong, he was automatically going to blame her. “I wouldn’t have gotten in a machine or sabotaged a machine I was flying in, would I?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted, albeit grudgingly.

  She snorted and rolled her eyes at the sky, letting him know with her body language that she thought his idea ludicrous. Using her annoyance to energize her walk through the thick vines and eager to be out of the water, she finally tromped into mud, then onto solid ground and peered up at the sky. “They’ll find the hovercraft without much effort.”

  He grinned. “I hope so.” Then he picked up a tree branch and bashed in the hull.

  “What are you doing?”

  He put a wrench to the engine, loosened a hose and some bolts until fuel leaked. Then he pulled wires out and connected them with a vicious twist.

  She had to give it to Derrek, he thought fast on his feet. “Suppose someone innocent finds . . . your trap?”

  “Why would a slave fleeing a Raman invasion stop to examine a craft with a hole so obviously unfixable in the side? Although they are desperate, they couldn’t hope to use it for escape—”

  “Point taken.” She really had to start thinking differently. These people were terrified of Firsts, horrified by the possibility of becoming slaves again. And no Zoran would stop to examine the hovercraft . . . not with their freedom at stake.

  She slung the blaster over her shoulder, hitched the ammo to her belt, and headed southwest over uneven ground, taking the lead, but Derrek soon caught up until they strode side by side. They skirted around clumps of thick underbrush and kept to the-tall trees to avoid being spotted from the air.

  Despite the rough terrain, Derrek set a fast pace with an easy stride that she suspected he could maintain for hours. When she’d left Rama, she’d been in good physical shape, too. However, the journey in space and the lack of gravity with little exercise had weakened her muscles, and she hadn’t recovered her full stamina.

  But she refused to slow him down. If she had to take twice as many strides as he did with his longer legs, she wouldn’t complain. Because what she had to do next . . . was going to be difficult for them both. And she didn’t know how to approach the delicate subject which made her heart heavy.

  They zigzagged for cover through an open field and then into another wooded area, following either animal paths or human ones. Moonlight helped light the way, allowing her to consider the problem. She needed to put Derrek under her Quait. If she didn’t, it would leave him vulnerable to another First’s will. That was the way Quait worked. Whoever grabbed a slave first had the best hold.

  She couldn’t let Tomar capture him.

  Do it.

  Sweet Vigo. Not yet, she argued with her own conscience.

  Coward.

  She was a coward. She knew she was. Derrek was already furious with her. One wrong move, like making a suggestion that he submit to her will and he’d . . . She couldn’t imagine how he’d react to her suggestion, but it wouldn’t be good and made her head pound. Derrek was independent, proud. And he’d loathe the idea of her using Quait on him—this time deliberately. Sweet Vigo. The idea of even suggesting it to him make her break a sweat. But if she said nothing, both he and his daughter could die.

  Derrek pulled up on the edge of the woods and peered into a neighborhood filled with burning houses. In the wind, flames jumped from rooftop to rooftop, burning, destroying. Wind gusts had been blowing the smoke in the opposite direction, but now it whirled back on itself, and the reek sickened her. After just a few whiffs, she almost gagged at the odor of burning flesh and wished she could close her ears to the sounds of distant screams, cries of horror, and shouts of rage that blended with the crackle of houses burning. Many roofs had already caved, the famished flames moving on with nightmarish speed. Smoke blanketed the night sky, hellish sparks warning them that their clothing or hair could catch fire if they moved downwind of the flames.

  They’d stumbled from the woods straight into the hostile invasion.
Dead bodies littered the lawns. Armed soldiers stalked the sidewalks, and stray canines barked, then fled in terror.

  She tugged Derrek back. “Don’t let them see you.”

  “We have to get to Tish.”

  “How far away do you think she is?” Azsla asked, pleased when Derrek moved back into the trees.

  “Another three blocks. Maybe four.”

  “We have to sneak around the edges.”

  “Can’t.” He pointed to soldiers striding through the smoke. “The fire’s spreading, and they look like an advance unit. Tomar may be right behind them.”

  “What do you suggest?” she asked.

  “We run for it.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not going to—”

  Derrek started to move out. “We have no choice. I must—”

  “Hey, you.” A quarking First raised his weapon at Derrek.

  In a split second he’d be cannon fried. Or under the First’s Quait. Both options were unacceptable. Terrifying.

  Azsla raised her weapon and pointed it at Derrek’s back. At the same time she placed him under her Quait. Even as her heart ached for him, she had no time to think about how betrayed he’d feel or if he’d ever forgive her. She had to do this. Pretend she was one of them. “I’m taking him to Tomar,” she said with authority.

  “How did you get here? Who are you?” The First peered at her through the smoke.

  At his questions, her heart skidded in her chest. She couldn’t blow this. She had to act as independent and superior as a First. With a First, the best defense was usually to take an authoritative and offensive posture. “You never saw me. Understood?”

  “You’re Corps, aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes still wary, but he lowered his blaster and backed away to let them pass. “You’re going the wrong way. Tomar is behind us.”

  “Not any more, he isn’t.” She bluffed, hoping he’d believe she possessed superior knowledge and praying he’d take the bait. Again, she nudged Derrek with her gun, making him walk in front of her with her Quait. And then she strode right past the First, who’d passed on orders to his squad to let them through.

  Azsla knew Derrek must be seething, and as much as she yearned to reassure him, she didn’t risk explaining. Instead, she screamed at him. “Move, slave. The longer you make Tomar wait, the worse it will be for you. I said run.” And she made Derrek run, then sprinted after him, praying she was running them in the right direction, worried that the guard she’d intimidated might yet call Tomar on his com unit and learn she should be stopped.

  Any second she expected to feel a blast between her shoulder blades. But apparently, like most soldiers, he didn’t want to bother his superiors. They sprinted around burning houses without being fired on, and finally they left the troops behind.

  The smoke cleared until they could draw some much needed fresh oxygen into their starved lungs. She relaxed her Quait and wearily braced for Derrek’s outrage.

  But he didn’t shout. He didn’t even give her a stiff and angry attitude. Instead, he eyed her with something that looked like respect.

  Perhaps smoke had gotten into her eyes? Or she was misreading him?

  “If there wasn’t a chance of being spotted by a First, I’d hug you right now.”

  Hug her? He wasn’t acting at all like she’d expected. Her mouth gaped open foolishly, and she snapped it shut. “You aren’t upset that I deliberately used my Quait. That I usurped your will?”

  His next words appeared to come with difficulty, and she couldn’t guess what it cost him, but he spoke clearly. “I . . . thank you. You probably saved my life back there.”

  “Our lives,” she corrected him, her heart soaring with sweet relief that he’d understood why she’d had to use her Quait. “Tomar considers me a traitor.”

  Soldiers broke through the smoke behind them. She pointed the gun at him, continuing their charade, using her Quait very lightly this time and allowing him the option to speak. “Let’s go. How much farther?”

  “Another block, I think.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I was only here one time. And between the flames and the smoke, it’s hard to tell one house from the next.”

  “If we find them, what’s the plan to get out of here?” she asked. Because no way were Poli or Mavinor up for even a five-micronbit run. She doubted the woman even owned a pair of running shoes.

  “We steal a hovercraft and fly out.”

  “Have you seen one?”

  “I’m looking.”

  “Is the com still down?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Behind them they heard a giant explosion. It could have been anything, a fuel depot, a military vessel crashing, but she suspected Derrek’s hovercraft had just exploded, taking out a few Firsts. Hoping that might distract the Ramans and buy them a little time, they hurried down the block.

  Flames hadn’t reached this series of homes, but the place had an abandoned look. Anyone who could get out had probably already left. If people remained, they were holed up behind locked doors. But with the flames spreading this way, fleeing was the only intelligent option.

  “There it is.” Derrek pointed and raced up to the front door of the house they’d visited yesterday. He pounded with his fist. “It’s Derrek. Let me in.”

  “Go away,” Poli yelled. “You’ll lead the Ramans straight to us.”

  Obviously in no mood to negotiate, Derrek kicked in the door. They entered to find Tish in sleeping clothes and running barefooted down the stairs, her eyes wide with fear. Mavinor stood in his night shirt, blinking as if he’d just awakened.

  Poli in a night dress brandished a broom at Derrek. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’ve come to take Tish to safety. I’ll take you too, but we need to leave now. Firsts are two blocks away, and they are burning down everything in sight.”

  “You broke my front door.” Eyes wide in shock and fear, Poli seemed totally incapable of facing the danger.

  “I’ll buy you a new door.” Derrek lunged up the stairs to Tish and hugged her. “Sweetie, I know you love your mom, but—”

  “I know. She’s not good in emergencies,” Tish answered and handed her father the knife she’d been holding. “I can’t leave her. Please. Don’t make me leave her.”

  Azsla’s heart went out to Tish. She recalled how much she’d missed her own mother, and in spite of Poli’s ridiculous attitude, she didn’t want Tish to go through the grief she’d suffered after her parents’ deaths.

  “We’re all going,” Derrek told his daughter. “Now go put on clothes and some flat shoes.”

  Azsla could see Derrek was torn between seeing that Tish dressed and convincing his wife to accompany them. Since Azsla didn’t want anything to do with Poli, she volunteered, “I’ll help Tish get ready.” She hurried up the stairs and left Derrek to deal with his ex-wife.

  The girl looked from her father to her mother, who seemed to have frozen in place. Then her frightened gaze moved on to stare out the open front door at the approaching flames.

  “It’s going to be all right.” Azsla placed a hand on her shoulder and helped guide her back upstairs. “Come on, Tish. We have to hurry.”

  Tish seemed to break out of her trance, spun around and took the stairs two at a time. Behind them, Azsla could hear Poli and Derrek arguing and knew she’d gotten the better end of the deal. When they reached Tish’s room, she was shocked to see that the girl already had a bag packed, clothes laid out.

  Tish dressed and tied on flat, comfortable-looking shoes, her practicality surprising Azsla, but Tad had said she was smart. While she obviously loved fashion, she had a pragmatic side she must have gotten from her father.

  Tish picked up her bag, then stepped back into the hall. She ope
ned a closet and lifted out a backpack. “I put some stuff for Mom in here.”

  Azsla slipped the backpack over her shoulder. “That was good thinking. Does she have any shoes—”

  “—that she can walk in?” Tish sighed. “I’m afraid not.”

  As Azsla turned in the dark hallway, out of the corner of her eye she saw the slightest movement, a dark mass among gray shadows. Without hesitation, she thrust Tish behind her. There was no time to go for her sheathed knife or her personal blaster or the weapon Derrek had given her. She barely had time to block the tranqed First soldier’s knife hand slashing toward her throat. Fear and adrenaline made her fast and strong.

  She slammed her attacker’s wrist, and his knife flew across the floor. Counterstriking, her hand rigid, she employed her stiff fingers like a knife, ramming them straight into a soft spot in the throat. Her opponent gurgled and died.

  “Oh . . . Vigo. Oh, my Vigo. Oh Quark,” Tish gasped.

  Azsla spun around, suppressing the sickness rising up her throat. “You okay?”

  “Is he dead?”

  “I hope so.” Azsla realized she sounded harsh and that the girl was in shock. She gentled her voice. “He was trying to kill us. I had no choice.”

  Tish got herself together. Fast. “Don’t tell Mom. She’ll freak.”

  “All right. We keep this between us,” Azsla agreed, not wanting to mention it to Derrek either. As she checked the other rooms, but found no one else inside, her thoughts raced. Derrek already considered her a monstrosity due to her Quait. Although she’d never killed anyone before, she’d deal with it later. And she really didn’t want Derrek to know how easily she could kill with her bare hands.

  Tish and Azsla returned downstairs and saw that Mavinor had dressed, too. Poli clung to his arm, tears running down her face. “I’m not leaving.”

  “We don’t have time for this.” Derrek looked at Azsla. “Convince her for me.”